


Moonflower

by shinigami714



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Arabian, Arabian Fantasy, Arkenstone - Freeform, Blood, Dancing, Dubious Consent, Durincest, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Necromancy, Oral Sex, Rimming, Romance, Sibling Incest, Smut, Undead, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Valar - Freeform, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 76,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714/pseuds/shinigami714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the desert lands lies a Kingdom, peaceful and prosperous, bustling with liveliness. But after an attack in a neighbouring land, darkness begins approaching quickly, along with the discovery of an exotic, dark haired man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aȝûlêz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright you guys. Since this story is taking forever, and I'm about 80% done or so, I figured I'd at least upload the prologue. More will be up soon! This is the longest story I've ever written, hope everyone likes it in the end. The pairings are for upcoming parts, as this little bit is just backstory. I've taken lots of inspiration from Tolkien's mythology, and added more of my own. As always, there are translations for some words in the endnotes!

**Chapter 1 - Aȝûlêz**

Many moons ago, before the great prosperous Kingdoms rose upon the land, men walked the endless plains with darkness in their hearts. Life was tiresome, and gruelling, and many lost faith in their reason for existing. People rarely interacted, and strong family bonds were rare. Violence often struck deep in the hearts of men, and great wars spread destruction wide and far in the name of power and greed. The lands were ruined, trees uprooted, water soiled, and all that remained was an endless sea of sand and the bodies of those who died in battle.

Though the Valar had once protected the people of Šebeth, they now cared little for them, instead choosing to remain in their home in Valimar. Men were fools, full of gluttony and hatred for one another. Their violence disgusted the Valar, and so they ignored them, abandoning men, for the gods had no reason to protect those with such evil in their bones.

The great commander Thrór was one of few men who still held kindness within his heart. Everywhere he travelled Thrór took in the lost souls he found. His men revered him, loved him even, and followed him faithfully across the sparse lands. In return Thrór gave his people all he could. He kept them fed and happy, spreading rations equally amongst all. He told countless stories of the ancient Valar to raise the spirits of those who experienced incredible loss. His people looked up to him as though he was a god walking the earth as a man, the last remaining god in Šebeth. While his people looked up to him Thrór continued to look up to the skies, his faith in the ancient Valar strong.

Even still, Thrór was a fighter, and the mention of wealth and power changed him as it had many before. Much like other men he craved the taste of battle and blood. He led the very people that revered him into combat time and again. His people fought long and hard, never betraying him or running from a fight, for they still believed his word was law. Until their last breaths came, they swung their weapons into the faces of enemies, no matter how fearsome.

"King Thrór! King Thrór! Our Vala!" They shouted, cheering their leader on even as axes slit their throats and sides. And Thrór grew powerful with their shouts, remaining undefeated in battle as he drove his blades into the hearts of his foes. He fought endlessly, until the last shouts died and the last soldiers fell, and the only one still standing was Thrór himself. He rejoiced in his victory, standing atop the mountain of corpses and cheering to the skies like the Vala his people thought him to be. But then, as Thrór looked down upon the devastation and remains of his people, bleeding and crying from their suffering, he shuddered. His eyes connected with his followers, children, mothers, fathers, brothers. Even his own lover lay dead and bleeding before him. All of his people were wide eyed as their last breaths left their bodies, and then his blades fell from his hands to the dark red soil below.

A god he was not. For no god would allow so many to suffer. A king he was not. For no king would betray his people so. Thrór fell to his knees in anguish, crawling across the ground as he looked upon familiar faces, faces that had once smiled as he told enchanting tales of ages past. Not one blinked back, not one spoke to him in return. He cried as he realised every last one had died under his command, and for what? A piece of land, covered only in the blood and bodies of those who fought beside him. For another palace left in ruin, the golden pillars and domes worthless in such darkness. His faith had waned, and he ran, and screamed begging someone to answer, anyone. He looked for water to clean his dirtied hands, but none remained. And he looked for fresh fruit to quell his hunger, but it was tainted. Nothing was left, and finally, Thrór too lost faith in his reason for living.

What good was there in living for only himself? What good was there in wealth and riches, when no one lived to share it with? What good could come of wandering the desolate lands alone? Still, he walked, his feet dragging through the deep desert sands, until all he could see around him was the grey horizon and the dark brown powder beneath him. He collapsed and raised his hands to the air, begging for any who might hear to forgive him, to save his people, to punish him instead. He begged the Valar he once held such faith in to hear him, to return to his land once more.

And then something incredible happened. Thrór's eyes widened as the sky lightened to a beautiful blue colour he'd heard of only in legend. The clouds disappeared, and brilliant rays of light shone out from behind them illuminating the land in a golden glow. Thrór covered his eyes, blinded by the beauty of the desert sky, until voices echoed all around him. He turned in a full circle, but he could see nothing beyond the beauty of the land. Then as he staggered backwards his body knocked into something solid. Startled, Thrór turned in surprise and gaped at a tree. It grew from beneath the sand, growing taller and taller, its leaves a deep emerald green, and bark a lovely mahogany. Thrór gasped and reached out to touch it. The bark was rough beneath his fingers but he rejoiced in the feeling of such life. Tiny insects crawled across his fingers and Thrór observed each one, placing them all back carefully.

The kindness he once held in his heart had returned. The Valar had heard his prayers.

As he stepped back and looked up at the tree he was alarmed once more. The land beneath his very feet collapsed and he fell with a splash into water. He sputtered and coughed, swimming to the surface and treading there. Instead of anger at the nerve of the gods, he felt overjoyed. Thrór laughed, loud and heartily, splashing his arms on the surface of the water. He took big gulps and dunked himself over and over. It was beautiful, glistening in the sunlight, bluer and clearer than any water he'd seen in his lifetime, and it tasted like the richest of wines. Beneath the surface, Thrór widened his eyes in wonder, ignoring the sting of liquid within them. Every colour imaginable covered the oceanic floor. Fish swam before his eyes of all shapes and sizes, and plants tangled around his ankles and toes.

Thrór was overjoyed. He thanked the Valar for their compassion, for their gifts, enjoying every last one thoroughly, though he still mourned the loss of his people. Thrór lived like that for many years. Alone, with only the bugs and fish to give him company. It was lonely, and nightmares and dark memories often ravaged his mind. He regretted so many of his actions, and sometimes wished he could join his people in death. But he was determined not to give up, for the Valar had blessed him with such beauty before his eyes, he had no right to throw it away.

One day, when Thrór was swimming through the deepest parts of the water, he spotted something peculiar. A shiny gem, blue, much like the water and sky, sparkled between the plants. Thrór plucked it from the sand, and took it ashore. He sat beneath his tree and held the gem up to the sun. Light reflected from within it, creating beautiful silhouettes and patterns around him. It was stunning, and reawakened memories of ages past. It reminded him of his father's eyes, and his lover's soul. He clung to the gem and whispered ancient words, words that he'd only heard spoken in his ears as a babe.

"Mânawenûz, A3ûlêz, Tulukastâz, Arômêz, Ulubôz," Thrór listed the names of gods long forgotten, long lost. Gods many thought had disappeared, choosing to abandon the realm of men.

"Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar! Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar," He chanted, over and over, for those he'd let fall in battle, for those he loved, for those he could not protect. That night Thrór slept with the jewel clasped between his fingers, grateful again for the beautiful gift, his lips forming olden words as he rest.

He dreamt of a Kingdom, large and prosperous. There was a palace that shone in the desert sun and a river ran through the middle of the lands offering the people an endless supply of refreshment. The surrounding villages flourished under the palace command, and the King was kind, but firm in his ruling. Though wealthy, the Kingdom remained benevolent. For the people had all they needed, and no desire to search out more. There was no disease or famine, the people did not suffer and they did not fight in wars, only fighting to aid others in need. They protected what they had, and those they loved, never asking for more. Death still existed, for new life was impossible without death. But the people cherished the memories of those long lost, grateful for the time they spent together, and the happy lives they were blessed with, while they looked forward to future lives yet to come.

Voices whispered to him in ancient tongues, different dialects running through his ears. They were the languages of the gods, and those that came from them. They first spoke in Valarin, the oldest of them all, the most secret of them all, and it felt foreign in Thrór's ears. Regardless of language, always they murmured the same words.

"Erebor," They said.

"Erebor," Thrór repeated.

"Arkenstone," They whispered.

"Arkenstone," Thrór murmured back.

When he woke, the sun was just rising, and he could hear unusual sounds around him. There was chatter, and voices whispered softly from his sides. Thrór opened his eyes and looked around in awe. People stood in a circle around him, his people. He remembered their faces, each and every one. They looked upon him expectantly, waiting, eagerly for his command. And Thrór could not speak, as his beautiful wife stood strong and tall before him, her long red hair falling in gentle waves about her face. They were smiling and Thrór felt his heart clench in his chest. He looked down, at the jewel in his hand, and knew, the Valar had given him an incredible gift. The gem held unimaginable power and the gods had entrusted it to him. It was a power he would never use again. He stood, the jewel clenched tight between his fingers and his people watched calmly as he looked upon them.

"Erebor," he said, gesturing at the land surrounding them, and the people repeated it in awe. The word echoed endlessly around him, children shouted it and clung to their mothers excitedly; fathers chanted it and cheered as they marched around the lands. And Thrór rejoiced in the happiness of his people and raised his hands to the sky, before embracing the family he held so dear.

He built a kingdom around the beautiful tree, and soon one tree turned into many, and eventually the small pond grew into a long winding river. The palace was built, and the people lived around it, rejoicing in their leader and the life they had been given. The families grew strong, and the people found love in their hearts for each other and their King. They had a reason to live. And in the eves when the stars first began to appear in the sky, the people gathered in the streets to celebrate.

"King Thrór! King Thrór!" They shouted and cheered, their faith in the Valar renewed. All the while Thrór held the Arkenstone close to his heart. He never used it, though its power remained strong, as the kingdom prospered under the protection of the Valar. And when his first son was born, under the light of a summer's moon, he placed the gem in the young prince's crown for safe keeping, a secret to all but the King and his closest kin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Here's some useful information!:
> 
> Aȝûlêz: Valarin for Aulë/Mahal, the Maker, in Tolkien-verse, he has lordship over the matter that composes Arda.
> 
> Šebeth: Valarin for air. For my purposes, the people use this word to refer to the world.
> 
> Mânawenûz: Valarin for Manwë
> 
> Tulukastâz: Valarin for Tulkas
> 
> Arômêz: Valarin for Oromë
> 
> Ulubôz: Valarin for Ulmo (There will be more info about each god later)
> 
> Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar! Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar!: From Namárië, a poem from Tolkien's writings, written in Quenya meaning: Now lost, lost to those of the East is Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.


	2. Ulubôz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s part 2! If you didn’t catch it from the first part, this is very AU. If you’re interested, here’s a link to a dancer that might help with visualizations: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xr6RaPGHVQE. And also, I have drawn a bit of art for this AU, which you can find on my tumblr: shinigami714.tumblr.com, there may be more to come as I'm fairly immersed in this story. And of course there is extra info in the end notes.

_Dís ran through the halls of the palace, her skirts flailing about her as tears streamed down her face. She felt only anguish in her heart as she searched every room, every hidden hallway. The palace guards ran behind her examining every entrance and exit, and awakening the entire court. Thorin ran from his rooms at the commotion, the sound of his sister's cries echoing through the halls._

_"Dís! What's wrong, what's happened?" Thorin shouted, and he moved to hold his sister's quaking form._

_"They've taken him! My baby boy!" she cried, falling to the floor in her anguish. Thorin lifted her gently and turned her face towards his own._

_"The stone?" He whispered, and she pulled away harshly, moving back towards her beloved sons' rooms._

_"My child! My child!" she sobbed, walking heavily through the wide hall, leaning against the wall. Thorin followed behind desperately, and he gripped her shoulder to stop her._

_"Where's the Arkenstone?" He asked again, his face serious as he stared into his sister's eyes. Dis scoffed and shook his grip from her arm._

_"You're blasted stone is safe! Atop Fíli's head as always," Dís shouted, a heated glare upon her face, and Thorin flinched and looked around. Guards were still running up and down the hallways behind them and poking into rooms, but no one else was in sight. Dís pushed a set of heavy doors open and flew into the rooms beyond. She collapsed in tears against her youngest son's bed and gripped the sheets tightly between her fingers._

_"Mama?" Fíli whispered in the dark, and his feet padded softly over to her. She sniffled and gripped her eldest boy in a fierce hug, pulling him to her chest._

_"Mama, where's Kíli?" Fíli asked, and Dís hated the fear she saw in his young eyes._

_"Gone, my sweet, he's gone," she murmured, and as tears filled Fíli's eyes, she rocked him in her arms, sobbing along with him. Thorin watched in silence, his eyes wandering to the empty bed his sister leant against. He touched it with a hand, and frowned. It was still warm from Kíli's sleeping form; surely his nephew could not have gone far. But at the sight of the crumpled pillow and thrown off sheets, anguish still filled his heart. Thorin stood tall as guards entered the room, and Dwalin approached him hesitantly._

_"There's no sign of him, my King," the soldier muttered, and rubbed the back of his head nervously. The other guards looked equally as nervous under their king's scrutiny and Thorin frowned and breathed out of his nose, trying to stay calm._

_"Keep looking, search the villages, search beyond if you must," Thorin voiced, and Dwalin nodded before rushing away, the other guards in tow._

_"We'll find him Dís," Thorin whispered, though his sister did not budge, nor acknowledge his words in any way, continuing to rock Fíli in her arms as she sobbed._

* * *

Erebor thrived as it always had, and the people within the walls of the Kingdom were happy and fulfilled. The young prince had grown, and entered the first years of adulthood, beginning to look like the King he would one day be, and Thorin's rule remained steadfast and strong. The men of the court and people of Erebor were completely loyal to the royal family, ensuring the Kingdom's continued prosperity.

But despite this peace, Fíli was bored. He loved Erebor, he loved the palace, and he loved the people, but sometimes, he just needed to get out. Something was missing from his life, always had been. Ever since his brother had been taken, Fíli felt lost within the walls of his home. His heart ached, and often he felt as though it belonged to another. He had many friends and comrades, but still, he wanted more.

The meetings in the court were drab most days, as the men around him talked of trade and commerce. The surrounding Kingdoms always wanted a piece of Erebor's bounty, and though Thorin willingly gave what he could, there were lines that needed to be drawn, and Fíli found he did not quite care about such things. Not yet anyway. Perhaps one day, when the people were his responsibility alone.

He dazed off for a bit, slouching slightly in his seat and tugging gently at his beard while he listened half-heartedly to the overlapping conversations. He was just pondering the unusual moles upon Óin's face when something piqued his interest.

"I have a message here from King Thranduil. It says the palace of the west was taken, overthrown by some unknown force; he's requesting our help," Balin spoke, his eyebrows raised slightly as he scanned the words. Thorin shifted forwards in his seat and frowned while Fíli sat up straighter.

"We have not spoken with any of their Kingdom in years, why send for help here?" Thorin questioned.

"Are yeh sure it was meant for us?" Dwalin asked, crossing his large arms across his chest.

"Yes, I'm more than sure, the note is signed from King Thranduil himself, and addressed to you, my lord," Balin said as he looked up and handed Thorin the parchment. The king squinted at it in disbelief, thumbing the seal that was unmistakably Thranduil's with confusion in his eyes. Thorin slapped the paper down against the table and contemplated his choices before he turned to his nephew.

"Fíli, take a small army and go see what can be done. We've never had…strong alliances with Thranduil, but I refuse to let innocents suffer if they can be saved. Grant whatever aid you can. And be careful," Thorin commanded and Fíli nodded, a smirk forming on his face. Thank the Valar! He finally had something to do!

* * *

It took several days to reach the Western Kingdoms, and when they did, it was in ruins. They sat upon their horses atop a nearby hill and eyed the charred remains of what had once been Thranduil's golden palace. Fíli had seen it only once before, as a young lad, but he remembered clearly how tall and broad the walls were, and how brightly they shone in the sunlight. The entire village had been laced with gold and various gemstones, but now, everything was black. Smoke billowed up into thick clouds and covered the sky in a sickly grey hue. It was clear that whoever had attacked the Kingdom, was long gone and that they left very little behind.

But Fíli could still hear screams, pained cries, of people who were suffering and dying in the wreckage. Though they were too late to stop the attack, perhaps some of them could be saved. The prince dismounted and turned to those that accompanied him.

"Look for any survivors," Fíli commanded, though he doubted there would be many.

"We will house and feed those best we can, and welcome them into our kingdom," he said, beckoning Dwalin to accompany him as the rest of the army split off into smaller groups.

The ruins smelled of burnt flesh, and Fíli covered his face as they walked within them. Homes were destroyed, and small flames still flickered amongst the debris. The two men poked their heads into every building they found, though they discovered no survivors. The few who still clung to life, were lost causes, and Dwalin quickly put an end to their suffering. Several bodies looked nearly decimated, as though a wild animal had torn into their flesh and chewed it from their very bones.

Fíli moved further through the village and they eventually came upon the palace ruins. Children huddled in corners, and Fíli gestured them in the direction of others as they moved further within the collapsed walls. The two men ducked beneath fallen archways into the depths of the rubble, picking up the occasional artefact as they moved.

Fíli was studying a surprisingly intact and very ornate vase when he heard Dwalin shout from not far away. He made his way towards the voice, ducking behind a torn tapestry, and peered around the large man's shoulders.

"Look at this! Found a whore! And a pretty one at that, wouldn't mind the company on the ride home," Dwalin jeered and tugged on the arm of a boy, probably a few years younger than Fíli. His eyes were dark and his brown hair fell over his shoulders in soft waves. Light silks covered his neck and legs, and gems and jewels hung across his body in tantalizing ways. He was thin, and struggled in Dwalin's strong grip, the fear clearly visible in his eyes. His skin was bronzed from days spent under the sun, and Fíli's eyes clung to every movement of his body. He wasn't just pretty, he was absolutely gorgeous. Fíli watched the boy squirm in Dwalin's grasp for a few more moments when he saw the tell-tale mark on the inside of his wrist.

"He's no whore, he's a dancer," Fíli spoke gently, eyes still glued to the other's form.

"What?" Dwalin asked, in the process of kicking the other's legs apart. The dancer whimpered and began muttering words in a foreign language as tears started to fall from his eyes.

"Let him go, you're frightening him Dwalin," Fíli ordered, and the other obeyed the command with a frown. The dancer immediately curled into himself and backed into the wall behind him, crying softly.

"He's a dancer. He's anything but a whore," Fíli said, and Dwalin looked between them.

"What do yeh mean?" Dwalin queried, eyeing the boy lustily.

"He's probably a virgin," Fíli muttered, taking a step closer. The dancer flinched and eyed him with distrust.

"Bull, look at 'im, he doesn't look like a virgin," Dwalin claimed, and Fíli had to agree. The dancer's coverings were nearly transparent. Though they appeared white upon first glance, Fíli could see clearly where his skin pressed against the sheer fabric. One shoulder was bared, and even the soft pink of his nipples were visible through his shawl. Jewels hung around his face, framing it, and several fell into the dip of his bellybutton. And though he was covering much of himself, Fíli could see how low his bottoms rode, where a jewelled belt hung loose around his waist, and the dark line of hairs that trailed up above it. He swallowed and tried urgently to control his body's reaction.

"That's the whole point. They're supposed to look…enticing," Fíli slurred, feeling his face fill with heat.

"How do yeh know this?" Dwalin asked suspiciously.

"I've heard tales of them before. Long ago, when our Kingdoms were closer, they say the Sindarin dancers greeted King Thrór upon each visit to the Western Kingdoms. They were revered amongst the people. Violating them against their will was punishable by death," Fíli explained and he stepped quickly towards the dancer and gripped his wrist tightly.

"Look, he has the mark," Fíli said, turning it and thumbing over the tattoo there. Kíli gasped and pulled away quickly, staring intensely at the prince.

"Their skills are legendary, they say a single dancer could hypnotize an entire room," Fíli whispered. Looking upon the other, he could see how that might be possible. If the boy's dancing was half as appealing as his form, Fíli knew he would be under his control in a second.

"Well, what do we do with a dancer?" Dwalin grunted, leaning against the remains of a nearby wall.

"Let him dance, of course," Fíli said with a smile, and then knelt before the boy. The dancer scurried away as far as he could, but Fíli just closed the distance.

"Do you speak Khuzdul?" Fíli asked, already knowing the answer. The boy had looked at them with such a fearful expression while they conversed; it was obvious he didn't understand a single word.

"No? Westron perhaps? Can you understand?" Fíli asked slowly, and he smiled when the other's eyes widened in recognition. The dancer licked his lips and blinked, looking up at Fíli from under long dark lashes.

"I…I know this, a little," He stuttered. His accent was thick, and the words rolled slowly off his tongue almost merged together as one. The consonants were softer and the resonances were smooth and exotic. His voice was deeper than Fíli expected, and he found he quite liked the sound of it.

"Your name?" Fíli asked calmly, doing his best to make the other feel comfortable in his presence.

"I…have no name," he whispered, and looked down, the jewels clinking around his body as he moved.

"No name?" Fíli questioned in surprise. He could not imagine such a thing. A name was a person's identity, their legacy. He studied the dancer, and knew he must give him one, a name that would honour his beauty, his grace, and that deserved to be known. A name Fíli desperately wanted to remember, to hear, and to call on a daily basis.

"Then I shall call you Kíli. It was my brother's name," Fíli said softly as he eyed the dark hair and eyes that reminded him so much of his lost family member. Dwalin made a sound of surprised recognition but Fíli's gaze remained on the man before him. The dancer pondered his words and looked at him for a moment before lowering his gaze to the ground.

"Thank you, my lord," he spoke and Fíli smiled gently in return.

"I am Fíli, prince of Erebor. Would you like to come with us, Kíli? You can dance, for the court in my Kingdom, if it pleases you. We can find you a room within the palace," Fíli offered. Kíli's lips opened and closed and he looked at Fíli with wide eyes. When his gaze flittered nervously towards Dwalin Fíli understood his fears.

"I promise no one will harm you, no one will touch you," the prince ensured, but still Kíli eyed Dwalin nervously.

"Don't worry about him, he's a big softie at heart," Fíli whispered with a smile and Kíli covered his mouth and snickered as he glanced at the larger soldier.

"Hey, what'd yeh say just now," Dwalin asked, affronted by the laughter and he scowled when Kíli chuckled again and smiled.

"Nothing important," Fíli mumbled, his eyes glued to the slight rise of Kíli's lips and the slant of his eyes. Fíli felt his heart literally drop into his stomach, but he coughed it back into place and reached out a hand as he stood. When Kíli gripped it with a sultry glance, his heart dropped immediately back down. It was going to be a long ride home at this rate.

They walked slowly back through the wreckage, Kíli in the front, and both Fíli and Dwalin leered at his swaying hips. The bangles and jewels chimed as they knocked into one another, and the fabric poured over his rear and thighs teasingly. Fíli could see the skin beneath, the hint of a crease, and he was fully aroused almost instantly. Fíli took a deep breath as he tried to think of something other than bronzed skin, even as his eyes trailed up the dancer's spine.

"Doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?" Dwalin muttered, his voice heavy with lust, and the prince breathed in heavily beside him.

"No…it certainly doesn't," Fíli choked out in response.

* * *

They travelled little that night, camping early and settling in the sandbanks to help spread rations amongst those rescued from the ruins. Fíli sat between Dwalin and Bofur, as he chewed some meat from a bone and looked upon their new additions.

"Only twenty three total," Fíli counted, his eyes wandering through their campsite.

"Mmm, most were dead, or dying," Bofur yawned, and leant back against a dune. The bird on his shoulder squawked indignantly and flapped its wings at the movement. He tugged thick fabrics over his head, and rubbed a finger under the chin of one of his tigers before tossing her a stray piece of meat. She gobbled it up eagerly before resting her head in his lap, content for the moment.

"And sixteen of them are children?" Fíli confirmed, and Bofur nodded remorsefully.

"Yeah, poor things, there won't be much for them, even in Erebor. A child without a parent is lost in this world," Bofur muttered as he ran fingers through the fur on his tiger's head.

"Any idea who was behind the attack? Dwalin and I saw nothing much other than rubble," Fíli grumbled, picking food from his teeth.

"Not too sure, though Bifur seems to think the place reeked of dark magic. The cats weren't fond of it either, they growled the entire time and hissed at the remaining flames," Bofur responded sombrely.  He flicked the fang that hung from his right ear grimly and kicked sand from between his toes. The morale was low, and Fíli had never seen his men so upset by anything before. Life in Erebor sometimes made one forget the troubles that occurred in the rest of Šebeth.

"Kíli!" Fíli shouted across the campfire. The dancer looked up at him in surprise and stood, walking languidly towards him. Bofur's eyes immediately lit up at the sight of him, and the surrounding men turned their heads as his form walked by.

"Why who's this? Such gorgeous eyes, just like one of my wild cats," Bofur said with a smirk. He sat up and leant forwards as his eyes grazed Kíli from head to toe.

"Bofur…no touching," Fíli warned the other man.

"Just for the eyes? I can handle that," Bofur grinned, running a hand through his long moustache hair.

"Kíli, would you dance for us tonight? I'd very much like to see it," Fíli requested in Westron. The dancer nodded and dropped the cloak about his shoulders to the sand. There were murmurs of appreciation and comments on his beauty from the surrounding crowd, and Kíli raised an arm and posed, the jewels clanging about his shoulders and hips. Fíli could barely contain his excitement and Dwalin whistled heartily at the sight.

"Bofur, play some music for him, let us see if the legends are true," Fíli requested, his eyes locked on the dancer's dark ones.

"For this lovely creature, anything," Bofur said with a smile. He shuffled a bit, pulling an elegant clarinet from his bags, the bird upon his shoulder flapping its wings and settling again. His tiger growled deep in its throat, affronted by the movement, before walking towards the others past the dancer. Kíli did not flinch as the fur grazed his leg, though his eyes followed the beast's movement carefully.

Bofur leered at Kíli before playing a simple tune. The men knew the sounds, and thumped their feet along with it, creating a steady drum beat. Kíli moved immediately, his body twisting with the melody, and his wrists twisted in time, soft chimes sounding as his bangles ricocheted off one another. The men were awed by him. He was absolutely stunning, even more so in the light of the campfire. His eyes glowed an amber colour and the sheen of sweat on his skin made his shawl cling to his form invitingly. The gold of his belts shimmered as he circled the flames, drawing the attention of every soldier. Kíli worked his way around once, then twice, finally stopping again in front of the prince. He danced there, looking into Fíli's eyes, and approached slowly until he was standing above Fíli's form.

"Gods above," Fíli whispered, watching as Kíli moved his hips in a circular motion, turning so that Fíli could clearly see the contour of his rear. The dancer bent backwards, and his hair dragged sinuously across Fíli's ankles, beckoning him to touch the strands. Fíli clenched his fingers tightly in the folds of his loose sharovary in an effort not to grab at them.

"Bless me," Bofur muttered, pulling the clarinet from his mouth. Even as the melody stopped, Kíli continued to dance, creating a rhythm with the jewels on his wrists and hips. His shoulders shook above Fíli and his earrings dragged against the long line of his neck. In that moment, Fíli saw nothing other than the intoxicating man dancing before him, not a boy at all. Kíli was a mountain of edges and curves, he was feminine and masculine all at once. The arch of his back captivated Fíli, and the jagged structure of his jaw as well as the knot in his throat, made Fíli's groin stir with arousal.

"Hey now, if I'm not allowed, neither are you," Dwalin grunted and Fíli managed to wrench his eyes away from the intoxicating sight just long enough to raise an eyebrow at the other man.

"Okay, so tha's not technically true…but yeh know what I mean," Dwalin muttered in response. Fíli grinned slightly, and lowered his lids, feeling more than a little bit drunk at the display before him.

"I won't touch him, no matter how much I wish to," Fíli slurred, as Kíli worked his way back up to a standing position. The dark haired man turned to face the prince once more and Fíli's eyes were drawn to the pendulum like movements of the golden jewels over his navel. He desperately wanted to touch the bare abdomen exposed before him, wanted to lean forward and run his tongue across the coppery skin, then press it into the tiny dip.

"What about me, young prince?" Bofur asked with a sly wink.

"I'm afraid you'll have to search elsewhere to warm your bed tonight Bofur," Fíli murmured, trying to compose himself as Kíli began to slow his movements to a stop. Bofur pouted dramatically and raised a finger to beckon a tiger, but the cats snubbed him and continued to laze about on the sand near the fire. Bofur groaned pitifully and turned towards the dancer.

"If you change your mind dear Kíli, don't hesitate to let me know," he spoke, grinning lecherously, and Kíli glanced at him blankly.

"He doesn't understand, our tongue is unfamiliar to him," Fíli explained, laughing at Bofur's antics.

"Oh I'm sure he knows what we're talking about, to some extent; it's fairly…evident," the tamer said, glancing pointedly at Fíli's groin. The prince coughed, clearing his throat before covering himself the best he could. Kíli bent to pick up the cloak he'd removed and approached him silently.

"Did you…enjoy, my prince?" the dancer asked slowly in his sultry accent and Fíli breathed in deep as he looked into the other's chestnut eyes.

"Yes, thank you," Fíli whispered, and then he pulled a blanket from his pack and handed it to the other man.

"It is cold in the desert at night, please take this. You'll need your rest; tomorrow will be a long journey," Fíli said. Kíli wrapped the fabric around his shoulders and bowed low in thanks before returning to his place near the fire. Fíli watched him, even as the other lay down and closed his eyes, and right then and there, the prince's heart was stolen for eternity.

* * *

Dried stones fell from the walls as a shadowy form rushed through the winding caverns. Left, then right, right again. Torn grey fabrics billowed out behind as it silently moved through the tunnel. Finally it stopped, entering a hollow in the wall. Hidden in the darkness was another, its hideous body covered in layered folds.

"Did you find him?" the creature whispered, nothing but the glint of sharp teeth and cracked lips visible in the dim lighting.

"He is with the Durin's army, headed back to Erebor," the shadow croaked through an equally dried mouth.

"You've failed to bring him to me," The leader growled, baring his teeth as drool leaked from between them in disgusting thick globs. The shadow flinched and whisked away to a far corner as the creature slammed a fist into the wall beside him. Sand fell from above in clumps and the thumping sound echoed through the cavernous tunnels.

"There are too many, they stay close together, a tight-knit group. The prince….has many guards," the shadow hissed.

"And, the jewel?" the creature snapped, its eyes glowing from beneath its hood.

"I do not know where it is," the shadow admitted, sneaking back towards the exit.

"Go! Do not fail me again!" the creature howled, the shadow recoiling and disappearing down the tunnel without a sound in a flash.

* * *

Kíli murmured contently in his sleep. He was warm, and his face rubbed up against soft fur. He cuddled into it, and clenched his fingers in the silky hairs as he listened to the smooth droning noises under his ear. Kíli opened his eyes slowly, blinking as sunlight pierced them. He looked up unhurriedly into golden glimmering jewels, then gasped and flinched backwards into yet another solid form. The tiger before him yawned dramatically, showing off its large teeth and Kíli scrunched up his face as rancid breath blew into his nose. The tiger stared at him, then leant its head forwards to lick up the side of his face.

Kíli giggled slightly, laughing as the rough tongue lapped at his neck and face, pulling strands of his hair up with it. He reached up and rubbed tentatively at the fur beneath the tiger's head, then firmer as the animal closed its eyes in pleasure and purred from the action. There was a paw on his hip and he felt the other tiger behind him move to get up.

"Seems they like you lad, can't say I blame them, I'd gladly warm up next to you at night," Bofur spoke in Westron, reaching out to greet the tiger that stood. Kíli covered his eyes to block the sun and looked up at him curiously. Then he raised his arms and stretched languidly across the quickly warming sand.

"You and every other member of this army," Fíli muttered, approaching from Bofur's side. The beast tamer gawked as Kíli's muscles moved with his stretching, and his eyes followed the sheer fabric up his thighs and towards the jewel on his belt.

"Leave him be, I'm sure he's had enough of your probing eyes," Fíli laughed, nudging the other man away. Bofur merely snickered and waved all of his tigers towards him.

"And what of your eyes, Fíli," Bofur asked, slipping easily back into Khuzdul as he turned to walk away. The tigers stretched, much like Kíli, shaking out the sand from their fur before following in the tamer's wake. Fíli glared at the other man's retreating back before turning towards Kíli and reaching to help him stand.

"I wanted to thank you, for dancing last night. Everyone seemed in better spirits afterwards," Fíli voiced, leading the dancer towards the horses.

"O-of course," Kíli stuttered, looking at his feet as he followed the prince.

"I would be honoured if you would dance for us every night, not only during our travels, but also within the palace," Fíli requested, and he reached out to help Kíli atop his steed. When the dancer settled comfortably he smiled, and looked into Fíli's eyes with a nod.

"I'm glad," Fíli whispered.

The prince mounted his own mare and rode up beside the dancer. The two chatted back and forth throughout the day, Kíli stumbling occasionally over the foreign words, and Fíli doing his best to aid. He taught him a few simple words in Khuzdul, which Kíli picked up relatively well. He liked the sound of his own language on the dancer's tongue, but even more than that, Fíli enjoyed the few times Kíli slipped into his own Sindarin tongue. The words flowed over his lips smooth as butter, and though Fíli did not understand a word of it, he still thought it beautiful. The army travelled without stopping that day, and even as the sun bore down on them at its highest point, their spirits remained strong as they eagerly awaited their return to Erebor.

"He's completely smitten with that dancer," Bofur commented to those around him and they muttered their agreements.

"Aye, he's taken more interest in him than anything I've ever seen before," Dwalin spoke, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings as well as the prince ahead. Bofur turned to look at his cousin then, reading his hand movements, and he laughed heartily.

"What is it?" Dwalin asked, eyeing the warlock inquisitively.

"Bifur is of the opinion he just needs a good lay," Bofur explained, and the soldier chortled at them both.

"How long do you think before he yields?" the tamer queried his comrades. Bifur grunted before raising his hands and signing a rune.

"Four days? That's all? I'll say a week, two maybe," Bofur stated.

"The prince wouldn' break his word. He's vowed not to touch 'im, and so he won't," Dwalin insisted, his hands gripping the reigns of his horse tightly. The tamer outright laughed, along with his cousin and Dwalin huffed.

"Even the strongest of men would cave with that form before them," Bofur scoffed, inclining his head towards the dancer's mare. Kíli rocked gently atop it, as though he rode every day. His body was fluid even while sitting, imitating the movements of his mount. The dancer's hair fell in soft strands across his back, and each time he turned to face the prince they played about his shoulders teasingly. Fíli watched him constantly, and even from a distance, the prince's roaming eyes were plain for all to see. Dwalin frowned and worried that he might lose yet another bet.

* * *

A few days later the company was looking rather exhausted and worn. The desert was cruel, without the cover of shade or the comfort of fresh water. Their supplies were waning from the extra strain of added numbers, even with so few. Children required a good deal of attention, and the soldiers needed a break.

Kíli took a deep breath, disheartened by the sight before him. Sand and more sand. He could see where the sun's heat bore into the landscape, and not a single sign existed of the great Kingdom they were supposedly headed, not in the foreseeable future.

"Nearly there," Fíli spoke gently, startling Kíli from his thoughts. The dancer sat up straighter and looked around again.

Kíli frowned, he must have misheard the prince, for even after shielding his eyes from the sun he saw nothing in the direction they headed, nor from whence they came for that matter. Fíli chuckled at him as they continued to move through the sand and up an incline in the dunes. And then Kíli gasped. Just barely he could see the tip of a palace take shape before his eyes. And when they reached the edge of the bank, it lowered into a deeper valley than he had ever seen before. The mounds of sand rolled down from all sides, encased within them a beautiful Kingdom, glittering with life. Kíli could see the tops of coloured homes, creating walled passageways throughout the surrounding villages. He could see tiny shadows moving about their work, and birds flying through the sky above.

Bofur's own bird took flight as his mare reached the edge beside Kíli's, flapping its wings and circling the Kingdom before flying towards the palace. Erebor was beautiful, gleaming far beyond that of Kíli's home nation to the west. And even from their distance he could see the sparkling blue water that ran through the city's core and around like a moat. Such fresh running water was a miracle to the eyes, surrounded by empty desert as it was.

"Elo!" Kíli exclaimed, awestruck by the sight.

"Welcome to Erebor, Kíli," the prince voiced and Kíli turned to him with wide eyes and an excited smile.

"I feel, like I have…been here once before. Perhaps, in…a dream?" Kíli muttered, looking back towards the scenery as the prince pondered his words. Their horses began the descent, carefully and with grace, and soon enough they reached the water's edge and the many ornate bridges that led across it. But Kíli was in no hurry to continue and he rode not towards a crossway, but instead to the sparkling blue river. Fíli beckoned the army on, all except Dwalin, and dismounted, walking towards the dancer's horse.

"The water…," Kíli whispered, his eyes following the ripples and his mouth quirking when a fish broke the surface.

"Have you never seen it before? Surely you must have had water to survive," Fíli asked as he helped Kíli step down from his steed.

"Not like this. It is…very blue, and…there's so much," Kíli responded slowly, walking over and bending low at the water's edge.

"Can I….can I touch?" Kíli asked, as his hands hovered over the currents. Fíli could see the small tremors in the dancer's fingers and the hesitance in his eyes, but he nodded and smiled before kneeling nearby. Kíli bit his lip, and lowered his hands slowly, startling slightly at the first touch of fingertips to the sparkling surface.

"Warm…," Kíli muttered, before sticking his fingers in further and laughing at the ripples they made. He shifted so he could slide his toes in, then sat over the edge and dipped his legs completely into the river. He looked about for a moment before back at the water as he smirked like a vixen. And then he jumped, his body slipping into the water like a serpent.

"Kíli!" Fíli shouted, grappling to the edge of the river in surprise. He could see the dancer's form moving beneath the small waves, swimming a little further out into the depths. Eventually Kíli broke the surface of the water breathing in a large gasp of air.

"Celair!" the dancer shouted as he wiped water from his eyes, and pushed the wet strands of his hair from his face. Fíli gaped at him in disbelief.

"It is…beautiful," Kíli cried as he swam back to the river's edge, propping his arms up on the grassy ledge. His nose nearly touched Fíli's as he looked up into the prince's blue eyes.

"The water here…it is the colour of your eyes, and the jewel on your crown," Kíli spoke gently as he pressed a finger first to Fíli's cheek and then to the gemstone above his brow. The prince narrowed his eyes slightly at the action but he quickly relaxed at the expression of innocent wonder on the other man's face. The kohl around Kíli's eyes smudged a bit into his skin, making him look even more exotic than usual, and Fíli almost choked when he saw the way Kíli's shawl clung to his body, nearly transparent.

"Just wait until you see the baths," Fíli murmured, and he reached to pull Kíli from the water. The dancer laughed and shook the excess moisture from his hair and clothing before turning to walk across the bridge and Fíli pulled the horses along behind while his eyes followed Kíli's every movement.

"No one should look that incredible, it's indecent," the prince whispered to his personal guard, and Dwalin merely grunted in agreement.

* * *

Thorin greeted them at the gates, having already dealt with the new additions to their palace. Fíli's uncle smiled gently, and looked to his nephew, relieved, before pulling him into an embrace.

"I am glad you've returned safe," he spoke, with a quick glance at Fíli's crown. The prince nodded and moved to the side beckoning Kíli towards him.

"And who is this?" Thorin asked, eyeing Kíli from head to toe. The dancer's clothes were still wet from the river, and he looked inviting as he moved forwards in a bow before the king.

"A dancer we found in the wreckage," Fíli explained.

"He's agreed to come dance here in Erebor," the prince said as Kíli rose, the gems across his shawl shimmering against his skin.

"A Sindarin dancer? I've heard tales," Thorin admitted, his eyes looking pointedly at the sleek fabric embracing Kíli's thighs.

"All true I assure you. He danced for our company many times on the journey home. It was mesmerizing," Fíli insisted and Kíli looked down nervously with a slight flush upon his face. Still, his posture remained confident.

"He has no name, so I gave him Kíli's," the prince spoke wistfully as he gazed upon the dancer and Thorin looked at his nephew in surprise. It had been years since they had seen the youngest prince, and nearly everyone had given up on ever finding him once more, though Dís still travelled to distant Kingdoms ever looking for her lost son. The King observed the dancer's form, much more slender than the rest of the Durin line. Even his face was thin, and his nose small and upturned. Though as Thorin looked upon the dark hair and eyes and the high cheekbones that barely resembled his sister's…was it possible? Thorin's eyes moved to where Fíli stood, noting his nephew's structure and form. He looked nothing like the dancer before them, broad shouldered and hardened with muscle. No, it was time to forget the child. Even after begging the Valar to return him year after year Thorin was left with only a broken sister and a nephew missing part of his soul. The youngest prince was lost to them forever.

"No name?" Thorin questioned and Kíli addressed him with lowered eyes and broken words.

"In my Kingdom, dancers did not hold names. Though I heard some men call me lŷg. It means snake," the dancer explained in a smooth leisurely way.

"I see. And do you accept the name my nephew has given you?" Thorin asked.

"Yes, I like it," Kíli admitted softly as his eyes strayed to where Fíli stood beside him.

"Then, welcome to our home Kíli, and please, make it yours as well," Thorin insisted with a bow, before he turned and beckoned his nephew to join him in discussion.

* * *

Kíli was left with a scribe. A young jittery man named Ori, with scraggly hair and curious eyes. He dressed well, as all of the people of Erebor seemed to, with luxurious fabrics draped over his head and shoulders and a long robe about his legs. He even had jewels around his neck, though nothing terribly eye-catching. The scribe seemed to care little about wealth and accessories, instead clutching tightly to his journals while they walked through the long halls.

Ori toured him around the palace, showing him places Kíli would surely forget how to find within the day, and scowling at anyone that leered a little too long. Kíli found he liked Ori. The other man was friendly, smart, and even spoke some Sindarin which helped relax Kíli's overworked brain. It was difficult to speak in a language he rarely used or heard, and he had begun to tire from the effort.

Ori said he worked in the palace library, keeping scrolls and tomes organized and readable, while recording his own texts to add to the collection. He offered to teach Kíli Khuzdul, so he could better speak with the people of Erebor and Kíli readily agreed, though he would not begin quite yet, not for a few days. He needed to rest his mind.

The young man also showed him the baths, and remained nearby to help clean Kíli's hair of the sand and dirt it had accumulated in the past days, as well as the grime that caked onto his clothing. Kíli was overwhelmed. The baths in his Kingdom were much smaller in comparison, lacking the natural resources to sustain such a thing. Here, he could swim across them if he desired, and there were several rooms besides the one he was in. As Kíli bathed, and Ori chattered away at him a man approached with thick fabrics draped across his arms.

"This is Glóin, he sews clothing for the royal family, and others living within the palace walls. He's our tailor," Ori explained and Kíli took that as his sign to get out. He felt completely refreshed as he pulled his body from the warm waters of the baths, towelling off his hair as he sat at the edge of the water. Glóin stared openly at him while Ori flushed and looked at him from the corner of his eyes. Kíli turned and sat closer to the other men, kneeling before the tailor who was mumbling under his breath.

"He says you have a beautiful form, and he looks forward to draping you in his wares," Ori said with a gentle smile and Kíli returned the sentiment as they looked over the elegant fabrics.

Glóin watched expectantly as Kíli ran his fingers over the different colours and patterns spread out before him. He seemed interested in absolutely everything, curiously touching each fabric, each design.

"Deil, dan tara," Kíli finally said, with a grim expression on his face and Glóin bristled and turned to Ori for an explanation.

"What's he saying? Does he not like them? These are the finest fabrics of Erebor!" Glóin barked but Ori held up a hand to calm him quickly.

"It's not that, he says…they're beautiful, but heavier, stiffer, than he's used to. They won't move with his body when he dances," Ori stated and Glóin scrunched up his nose before standing and gathering his things.

"Let me see what I have," The tailor spoke quietly before rushing away. Ori chuckled and turned to the dancer with a grin.

"He never fails to impress, and he very much wants to impress you," Ori voiced before turning to his bag and pulling a small wooden box from within. He handed it to Kíli who stared at it coyly before lifting the hinged lid. The dancer's eyes widened as he looked at the contents. A striking trinket lay within the box. It was shaped like a panther, with a long sinuous body, and fine claws. The tail curled at the lower end and its mouth was opened to reveal tiny fangs. Red rubies were faceted into the eyes and black gemstones adorned the length of its body.

"What is this for?" Kíli asked as he pulled the jewel from the case and held it up. It dangled delicately from his fingers and glittered in the soft light.

"This is a gift, from the prince, a navel ring," Ori said and already Kíli moved to hook it on his body instead of the simple embellishment that had previously been there. It settled beautifully in the dip of his navel, the claws touching the sides and the tail hanging alluringly below.

"He hoped you might wear it when next you dance. But if you ask me, I think he'd quite like you to wear it always," Ori snickered and covered his face while Kíli smiled at him and bit his lip. Not a moment later Glóin rushed back into the room, his arms filled with new fabrics and jewel adorned belts and Kíli widened his eyes in amazement.

* * *

Dwalin rather thought he had a pretty great job. He liked the King's company and even considered Thorin one of his closest friends. He respected the young prince as well, having trained him daily from the moment he took his first steps. But he loved his job the most on those days he saw the scribe, though he would never tell a soul as much, not since he valued his life. Dwalin knocked on the door outside the baths and stood to his full height as he listened to soft footsteps approach. The door creaked as it opened and then Ori's head poked out the tiny space.

"Oh! Mister Dwalin," the scribe exclaimed before opening the door completely and bowing in front of him. Dwalin watched him eagerly, willing his heart to stop beating so fast, and the steadily growing flush on his face to wane.

"Uh…yes, hello, erm, the King has requested Kíli dance for the court tonight," he spoke as regally as he could manage and Ori looked up quickly with a smile before moving out of the way and waving the dancer over. Dwalin's eyes opened in surprise as he watched Kíli approach. Gorgeous pale blue fabrics with red floral patterns adorned his body, and they were silky and thin like the ones he wore before, though not nearly as transparent. Still, the way they moved about his body was enticing, and his skin was bronzed and glossy, complimenting the colours perfectly. He'd retouched his eyes as well, dark brown smudged around them, and little designs adorned with gemstones covered his face and arms.

"Beautiful isn't he?" Ori said with a deep sigh, and he looked almost forlorn at the soldier's reaction to Kíli's approach. Dwalin coughed heavily for a moment, clearing his throat.

"Yeh…bit too tall and skinny for my liking though," he muttered before turning, Kíli following behind with the blushing scribe.

* * *

The court was crowded with various people from the palace, seated on cushions and padded chairs in a large circular shaped room. Fine fabrics draped the walls and fell from the ornate ceiling and Kíli reached out to touch them reverently as he walked before the King. Fíli sat just to the king's right, going silent as Kíli approached. No words were spoken between them, but as music began to play and the King lowered his head in a nod, Kíli took his place to begin a dance.

The movements came naturally to him, and the hot bath had loosened his muscles and soothed him to a point where he felt incredibly limber and fluid. Kíli wandered the room, pausing before many people, occasionally stopping to perform a specific pose. He twisted his body and crooked his limbs, performing a full backbend. Then he made use of the hanging drapery in the room, twirling it around his body and dancing with it as though it were a lover, shaking his hips in a constant alternating movement. As the music grew more rhythmic he made his way towards the prince, dancing teasingly to show off the gift that hung from his navel. Then he lowered himself to the ground, resting his fingers just a few feet in front of the prince. And slowly, gradually he lifted his body into a headseat, his rear twisting back until it touched his head, his feet pointed towards the relief in the ceiling. His audience gasped as he held the position, looking playfully into the prince's eyes.

"You did not say he was a contortionist as well," Thorin whispered from Fíli's left and the prince did not turn towards him. His eyes were stuck in front of him. They roamed Kíli's supple body, across his face, and up the length of his legs to the ends of his toes, before lowering again to dancer's muscular shoulders.

"I did not know," Fíli managed to croak as he studied the way Kíli's jewelled earrings dangled down beside his arms, and the strands of blue fabric that hung across him. Though Kíli had been beautiful, when he danced for the company on the journey home, it was nothing compared to how he looked now, with clean skin glazed from the oils in the baths, and hair silky and softer than the smoothest of feathers.

After a moment Kíli closed his eyes and stretched his legs out, to his sides, until his toes pointed nearly parallel with the ground. Fíli eyed the bulge he glimpsed in the dancer's groin and imagined everything he could do to someone that moved with such flexibility. It was clear why Kíli had earned the name of 'snake' among his people, his body curved attractively and he practically slithered while he danced. The dancer lowered his body and did another backbend before moving around the room again, but always he paused in front of Fíli for a few extra seconds.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he likes you nephew," Thorin drawled, and Fíli turned to him curiously.

"Look how he watches you, returns to you," the king spoke with a grin and Fíli did just that, as Kíli once more stood before him. This time the dancer approached even closer than before, shaking his belly in tiny little jerks. The gift Fíli had asked Ori to give him dangled proud and visible, the panther's tail hanging delightfully in the dark trail of fine hairs beneath the other man's navel. Fíli watched it move back and forth, as the jewels caught the flickering candlelight from the many lanterns on the walls. And before he had time to think about it, Fíli reached out, gripping Kíli's side tightly. The dancer gasped, startled by the touch, and froze in the middle of his movements with widened eyes. Stunned whispers and quick intakes of air echoed through the room and Fíli very quickly realized his mistake. He pulled his hand away hastily and Kíli stepped away from him slightly.

"I'm sorry, forgive me," Fíli mumbled before he beckoned towards the room.

"Please, continue dancing," the prince requested softly with apologetic eyes, and Kíli backed away to move about the room again. He still circled back in front of the prince, and he danced just as enchantingly as before, though he did not move quite so near, and his eyes strayed nervously around as he eyed the prince with trepidation.

Bifur signed across the room to where Dwalin sat and the soldier grumbled angrily before tossing a small pouch towards him, then a few moments later Bofur tossed one as well, though with a happy grin upon his face. Four days was all it took for the young prince to reach out and touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading part 2! I have just a few pages left to write, but they are proving some of the most difficult. Here are the terms I thought people might like to know more about. Some words may be incorrectly formatted since I’m not an expert in the many languages that Tolkien created!
> 
> Ulubôz: Valarin for Ulmo The pourer, Lord of Waters. Known as the best singer and maker of music.
> 
> Sharovary: A type of loose fitting pants, usually gathered both at the waist and above the ankles.
> 
> Westron: The common tongue in Tolkien’s works, I’m using it in the same way here. It should be noted, that the people of the Western Kingdoms tend to speak in Sindarin, and the East, Khuzdul.
> 
> Elo: an exclamation of wonder or delight in Sindarin.
> 
> Celair: Brilliant in Sindarin.
> 
> Lŷg: Snake in Sindarin.
> 
> Deil, dan tara: Literally ‘Beautiful, but stiff’ in Sindarin
> 
> Backbend: A contortionist pose, in which a person curves their torso backwards, sometimes far enough to touch the ground.
> 
> Headseat: An extreme backbend, in which the back of a person’s head touches their rear, sometimes in a handstand position.


	3. Tulukastâz

Kíli enjoyed living in Erebor. His first week proved relatively uneventful, though every night he was asked to dance for the court, and sometimes even during the day, which he thoroughly enjoyed. He loved dancing after all, loved to move, to let go. He especially enjoyed watching the reactions of those around him, as immersed in him as he was in his dancing.

And then there was the Prince. Fíli watched him unlike any he'd ever seen before. There was lust of course, in those blue depths, but also a tenderness that Kíli had not expected. The Prince never looked away, and more often than not, his eyes were boring directly into Kíli's own. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a little intimidating. Prince Fíli made Kíli feel nervous, unsure, made his breath shorten and the hairs on his neck stand on end. No one had touched him before. Not while he danced. He could still feel the shadow of a firm grip in his side, the way the Prince's fingertips grazed his skin gently in the few moments they were touching. It did frighten him a little. He'd been apprehensive about dancing for the Prince the following eve, but Fíli had not reached out again, not once.

In truth, Fíli was very kind. He made sure Kíli was comfortable, enjoyed his rooms, and had everything he needed and more. He was well fed, well dressed, and free to do whatever he wished during his days in Erebor. Kíli knew he was being watched occasionally, a guard or two off in the distance. And when guards weren't present, he was with one of the other members of the court, usually Ori, or alone in his own rooms. But he did not mind, in fact he felt quite blessed. Kíli missed the palace of the Western Kingdoms, on occasion, usually in the midst of night. But Erebor was welcoming and quickly becoming his new home.

Kíli and Ori became fast friends, spending much of their time together in the expansive libraries. They spent hours poring over the ancient languages of the world, and slowly Kíli began to pick up Khuzdul. He could understand it fairly well, and read it a bit, though he still found it difficult to speak. The words were harsher than his tongue was used to, and shaping the sounds quickly grew tiresome for him. Oftentimes he conversed with Ori in Sindarin, as the young man liked improving his knowledge of the other language and swapping between as many as possible as often as possible.

Ori also loved to chat, when not surrounded by large numbers of people, though he always went curiously quiet whenever Dwalin came to fetch Kíli. It was clear there was an attraction there, that went both ways, but Ori held little confidence in himself, and Dwalin was far too proud to admit to such fancies of the heart. Kíli figured something had to be done to lift the scribe's spirits, so one day he spoke up.

"Ori, would you like to learn how to dance? I could teach you! It would be fun, and the least I could do for everything you've taught me," Kíli suggested and he watched the other man's eyes light up. Though quickly Ori cowered and wrapped his arms around his body.

"Oh no…I couldn't," Ori whispered and Kíli frowned.

"Are you sure? It's not hard, and you're tiny, I'm sure you'd move well," Kíli reassured the scribe, but Ori just shook his head and began to talk of his eldest brother who worked elsewhere in the palace.

* * *

Kíli danced yet again for the court that night. It went over well, incredibly well, if the dazed look in the Prince's eyes was any indicator. Kíli smiled to himself as he closed the door to his rooms fingering the delicate jewels that hung from his ears. They were another gift from Fíli, to match the panther he'd taken to wearing nearly every day.

He was tired, completely exhausted after the long days growing accustomed to his new lifestyle. Kíli bent forwards, resting his brow against the back of his door as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his muscles and mind to relax. His moment of peace was short-lived and he gasped in surprise as his body was pushed hard against the door while a scaly hand covered his mouth.

"Don't even think about screaming," a gruff voice hissed in his ear. Kíli's eyes were wide with fright and he whimpered pitifully. His voice caught in his throat and he gagged at the feeling of flaking skin pressed against his own.

"Listen carefully, little dancer," the form behind him whispered, and Kíli nearly retched at the foul smell that invaded his nostrils.

"You have one day. In this day, you will find the Arkenstone, and then you will slit the young Prince's throat," the nameless creature voiced. Its cracked lips dragged along Kíli's ear and the dancer flinched at the feeling of cold metal pressed against his back.

"We'll know if you fail," it droned, laughing manically into his ear, and Kíli let out a pained moan as a mark was carved into his lower back. It burned, as though he was being branded by the blade, and Kíli struggled against it as tears came to his eyes. Finally the metal was pulled from his skin, but only briefly as he felt the tell-tale cold touch up against his throat not a moment later.

"If the Prince's blood does not taint the blade, the dagger will find you in the night, and slit your throat instead," The wraith breathed with a small chuckle and Kíli felt the creature tuck the blade into the back of his belt, the sharp point grazing the skin beneath his coverings.

"And after that… it will split you open like the whore you are, for all to see. Understand?" the voice penetrated his ear like a drum and Kíli nodded quickly as the tears finally dripped from his lids. Then he collapsed against the doorframe, the form behind him gone as quick as it had arrived, and Kíli fell to his knees as quiet sobs wracked his frame. He looked behind him quickly, but saw only his empty room, and Kíli reached back hesitantly to touch the mark on his skin. It hurt, and he flinched as his fingers barely grazed it, then with trembling hands he pulled the dagger from beneath his belt.

Kíli trembled as he sat against the door, the blade shaking in his hands. It was a small dagger, inconspicuous enough to conceal, but long enough to do a good deal of damage. It nearly vibrated in his hands, and he hated the feeling of it between his fingers. The creature had whispered of a stone, the _Arkenstone_ , but Kíli had not the faintest what that was. How was he to find an object he'd neither seen nor heard of before? How was he to…to kill? Kíli huddled into himself and cried, spending the rest of the night crumpled against the wall, too afraid to sleep, while his eyes wandered frightfully around his room.

* * *

The following day passed by far too quickly for Kíli's liking. He flinched at sudden movements and worried his lip the entire day, while fatigue wore at his soul. He procrastinated on his task, even as the mark on his back grew more painful with each passing hour. The dagger was tucked carefully beneath the wide belt on his hips, and its presence made Kíli uneasy and nauseous. In the evening he danced for the court nervously, doing his best to steady the tremors that moved through his arms and legs. If anyone noticed, not a word was uttered, and as Kíli looked into the Prince's eyes, he knew his task was impossible. He could never drive a dagger into the throat of such a generous man.

Though as his dance ended, and he braced himself to return to his rooms, the mark in his back throbbed so painfully he nearly screamed. It reminded him of the task he had, and the result he would face in failure, and Kíli steeled his nerves as he approached the Prince. The other man stared at him as Kíli bowed and began to speak.

"I thought, I might dance for you alone tonight, in your rooms," Kíli began, barely managing to hide the quakes in his voice. The Prince eyed him with surprise plainly visible in his gaze, while Dwalin narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"To thank you…for all you have done for me," Kíli further explained, even as he fought to steady his lips and calm his erratic breathing. He knew the Prince's weakness; he knew he could exploit it. Fíli grinned heartily at that before standing and leading the way.

"How can I say no to that?" The Prince responded as he walked by the dancer, and Kíli followed in his wake. Dwalin tailed them and Kíli tensed as he felt the large man stare at his back. He knew his hair was long enough to cover the mark there, and that the dagger was well concealed, but it was unnerving, and he cast the occasional nervous glance in the soldier's direction. Fíli noticed of course and as he opened the doors to his room, the Prince turned to his guard with a raised hand.

"It's alright Dwalin; we'll be fine, stand outside if you must," Fíli muttered, and Dwalin glared, but huffed and settled against the wall in the hallway. As soon as the door closed, Kíli began his dance, twisting around the Prince and pushing him towards his elegant bed. He took little time to observe his surroundings, focused solely on his task of entertaining the Prince, occasionally glancing towards the dangerous cutlass that hung from Fíli's belt. He knew the other man could kill him in an instant, he would never get his own blade to Fíli's throat without completely distracting him first.

"Well…you really get down to business," Fíli muttered, as the dancer twisted in front of him dreamily. Kíli moved closer and closer until he was nearly pressed against the Prince and then he pushed the other man firmly back onto the bed.

"Woah!" Fíli shouted, bouncing slightly and trying to sit upright, but Kíli was already atop him on the mattress. He pushed the Prince down again, and then moved to brace his forearms on either side of Fíli's thighs before lifting his body and bending his back. Kíli's legs balanced above him, pointed towards the Prince, and he twisted his toes into the other man's blonde hair. The dancer's earrings dragged across Fíli's waist and he licked his lips sultrily while gazing at the Prince.

"By the sea and stars, incredible," Fíli breathed, fighting the urge to grab the dancer's ankles, breath coming to him in quick short gasps. Kíli held the pose for a few seconds, and eyed the growing bulge in the other man's pants. He knew only one moment in which a man was completely powerless, and so he swallowed nervously before pulling back into a sitting position. This time Kíli bent back into a hairpin, showing off the jewel on his belly as he ground into the man beneath him. He could feel the other man's arousal growing and when he sat straight the Prince's eyes were dazed and his skin was flushed.

"Kíli…," Fíli sighed as his body grew heated. Kíli braced himself and reached into the folds of the Prince's pants demonstrating incredible confidence while his heart beat with fear. He gripped Fíli's flesh, before pulling the man's cock from its confines. Kíli glanced at it for just a moment, running his fingers up and down the soft skin as Fíli tried to sit up once more.

"What…what are you…?" The Prince questioned, but Kíli lowered his head quickly, wrapping his lips around Fíli's hardness and sucking.

"Mother of pearl!" Fíli exhaled, and his head fell back to the pillows and blankets beneath him. Kíli sucked vigorously even as tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He'd never lowered himself to perform such acts before, and he struggled not to sob while he gave the Prince pleasure. Kíli could tell the other man would not last long. The muscles in his arms contracted as he gripped the sheets tightly, and his hips rose up each time Kíli took his length in his mouth.

"Nngh!" The Prince groaned deep in his throat, and Kíli choked as Fíli's cock hit the back of his throat. He felt the warm liquid filling his mouth and swallowed best he could, pulling off and reaching back for the dagger tucked under his belt. He moved quickly, while the other man was still a mess of weak limbs, throwing the cutlass from the Prince's hip before he pressed the blade into his throat and straddled his chest.

"Wha-?" Fíli muttered, but his voice hitched as cool steel pressed further into his skin. The Prince blinked his eyes, clearing his vision as he looked at the dancer above him, finally realizing his predicament, even as his chest rose and fell with heavy gasps.

"T-tell me where the Arkenstone is," Kíli demanded, his voice shaking along with the rest of his body. He felt the tears in his eyes fall and run down his cheeks as he saw the confusion in the Prince's eyes, and his breath caught as tiny whimpers sounded in his throat. Fíli watched him, calmer than he probably should have been with a blade pressed into his neck. Not once did Kíli glance at the stone in his crown, nor did the dancer appear to really want to hurt him.

"Hush now, there's no need to cry," Fíli whispered softly. Kíli blinked as more tears dripped down his face and he wiped his mouth on his shoulder in anguish, gasping painfully at the thought of his desperate actions. It disgusted him, that he had gone to such measures, but he was so terribly afraid.

"Be calm," the Prince spoke gently, and he moved his hand just barely to stroke the side of Kíli's arm, the arm that held the blade. Kíli let him, for a few moments, before he jerked forwards and pushed the blade in deeper still. Fíli flinched back and placed his hand atop the bed again as blood trickled from his neck.

"I'm s-sorry," Kíli stuttered, as his hand shook furiously on the hilt, horror stricken by the red upon the other's neck.

"So sorry, I-I have no choice, I-," the dancer's words were a jumbled mix of Sindarin, Khuzdul and Westron, and his lips shuddered as he spoke each one. Kíli bowed his head briefly before looking up into Fíli's eyes with such pain that Fíli felt his heart ache at the sight.

"I don't want to…you've been so…kind, but I," Kíli explained, biting into his lip fiercely. The hilt of the dagger slipped in his sweaty palm, and he struggled to keep it in place.

"They'll kill me," Kíli whispered fearfully.

"You don't have to do this Kíli," the Prince assured him, trying again to move his arms, but Kíli jerked and screamed at him.

"They'll kill me!" he shouted, his eyes wide and teeth visible in a grimace, like a wild animal. Seconds later the doors to Fíli's rooms slammed open and Dwalin rushed inside.

"What's goin' on in here?" The soldier bellowed before his eyes took in the scene atop the bed.

"My Prince!" Dwalin roared, pulling his blade from its scabbard as he rushed towards him, but Fíli held up his hand quickly.

"Stop, Dwalin, it's okay," Fíli insisted in a steady voice, and the warrior struggled between obeying his orders and saving his Prince's life. He glared furiously at Kíli who looked between the two men, horrified. The dancer's body quaked and he shook his head as sobs wracked his frame.

"I know you don't want to do this, I can see it in your eyes, in the tears that fall from them," Fíli addressed the dancer, pulling his attention towards him. The Prince could see Kíli's conviction waning, feel the pressure against his neck beginning to fade.

"Come now, it's alright. I can help you, give me the knife, and I promise, no harm will come to you," Fíli swore, and this time when he raised his hands towards Kíli the dancer did not flinch. Fíli pressed one hand into the strands of Kíli's hair that flowed down his back and placed the other on his elbow. Kíli only sniffled as tears dripped down onto the Prince's collar. He should have known he would fail. There was no way he could have killed someone like Fíli. Just the sight of blood upon the other man's neck sickened Kíli and he hated what he had become.

"I can protect you, I can keep you safe," Fíli whispered, dragging his fingers along Kíli's forearm until they gripped the hilt of the dagger. Kíli's hand loosened as Fíli's slipped beneath it, and he allowed his grip to go lax against the handle.

"That's it," Fíli whispered, and as Kíli went limp atop him the Prince pulled the dagger completely from his grip and held it off to the side with a sigh of relief. He looked to his left at the intricate weapon intently until Kíli's form was pulled swiftly from atop his.

"You whelp!" Dwalin roared, as he gripped Kíli by the hair and dragged him across the room. The dancer scrambled against the ground, his feet and hands grappling for purchase.

"Dwalin!" Fíli shouted in surprise, sitting up and watching as the soldier threw the other man in the corner.

"I knew the moment we took you in, you'd be nothing but trouble," Dwalin seethed as he pulled Kíli's head back aggressively.

"A sly little piece of shit, you sully the lost Prince's name," the man shouted, raising his hand before bringing it down and slapping the dancer across the face. The sound echoed loudly in Fíli's quarters, and was followed only by Kíli's soft whimpers and the thump of his body hitting the ground. Fíli sat frozen at the sight, moving only when Dwalin rest his sword against the dancer's neck.

"Dwalin! Stop! I promised his safety, do not harm him," the Prince ordered, as he rushed to Kíli's side.

"Are yeh outta yer mind? He tried to kill you!" Dwalin hollered, completely outraged at the thought of sparing a traitor's life.

"Anyone would have under the circumstances," Fíli insisted, and he moved to his knees beside the dancer. Kíli's hair hung in his face, falling from the confines of his ponytail, and his shoulders shook with wretched sobs. Even hidden as it was, Fíli could see droplets of blood forming on the other man's lip and the dark red mark taking shape on his skin.

"Some value honour higher than life," Dwalin muttered, but he sheathed his blade and stood off to the side. Fíli reached out to touch Kíli's face, but the dancer flinched away from his fingers and huddled against the wall. The Prince sighed and raised the dagger in his hand up to the light, before handing it to his guard.

"What can you tell me of this?" Fíli asked and Dwalin reached for the hilt, frowning as his hand contacted the metal. He twisted it around in his fingers, looking at the designs engraved in the blade as well as the end of the hilt closely.

"The blade is not of this world, to meh knowledge," Dwalin muttered turning it once more in his hands.

"It feels…evil, I dun' know its maker, though it looks a bit like the relics from Thrór's reign," Dwalin spoke, handing it back to the Prince. Fíli rubbed his forehead with a sigh before holding the dagger in front of Kíli's eyes.

"Who gave this to you?" He asked, gently as he could manage and Kíli turned to him slowly, his eyes lowered to the ground.

"Last night…there was someone…something in my rooms," the dancer began and Fíli shared a look with Dwalin.

"He…it…I'm not sure, pushed me against the wall and threatened me. It smelt foul, and its skin fell off in flakes like dried mud," Kíli stumbled over the words between his weeping.

"It was inside the palace walls? How did it get in? Were the guards not on duty last night?" Fíli asked looking between the dancer and his guard.

"They were at their posts as always," Dwalin said affronted that any man would slack under his command.

"And this thing…wanted the Arkenstone? What do they need it for?" Fíli questioned gently but Kíli shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, nearly deflated; his shoulders slumped heavily at his sides.

"You best not be lying boy," Dwalin growled, and Kíli looked up quickly.

"I swear! I don't know," the dancer cried and Fíli waved his guard away.

"Dwalin, enough. You said they would kill you, how?" Fíli continued, and he watched as Kíli leant his side against the wall wearily.

"The knife…it is…charmed, they marked me, it…it's getting worse with time. They gave me a day," Kíli muttered and he turned to show the Prince his back. His long hair slid to the side as he bent his neck and Fíli's eyes were drawn to intricate red markings just above his golden belt. The symbol was inflamed; the beginnings of a rash surrounding it and it appeared as though it might bleed at any touch.

Fíli's eyes looked the dancer's form over, only just noticing how weary the other man acted, how pale his skin was compared to its usual bronze sheen, and the dark circles that fell beneath his eyes. Trails of black smeared across his face in the wake of his tears and pain was visible in his eyes. His cheek and lips were red and swollen, darkening as minutes passed. The Prince sat back and pondered the dagger, unsure exactly what he could do.

"We should let it kill him, for his betrayal," Dwalin spoke up before he had a chance to think long, and Fíli chose to simply ignore him.

"How much time do you have left?" Fíli asked. At his words Kíli's face scrunched up and he covered his eyes with a hand.

"Minutes…maybe," he whispered sadly.

"So we destroy it," Fíli said, beginning to stand. Kíli turned to him and gripped his arm viciously stopping him mid movement.

"You can't! It…there's no time, and they will know. It might hurt you," Kíli insisted, and then his expression grew forlorn again.

"Only your blood can sate the spell, I…you _should_ let me die," Kíli spoke as he let the other go. Fíli stared startled at the dancer. Even the notion of standing by and watching as Kíli was killed disgusted him. How could he possibly allow such a thing to occur under his protection? He recalled the hesitancy in Kíli's dances that eve in the court and the nervousness in his eyes as he'd begun to again in Fíli's rooms. How had he not noticed something was wrong with the beautiful man before him? He'd been a fool, so engrossed in the dancer's body, in his lips upon his skin, that he'd failed to see the fear and forced resolve in Kíli's expressions. Fíli ran his fingers across the small wound upon his neck, and then looked at the red stain left behind on them.

"How much blood? This was not enough?" the Prince asked, and Kíli glanced at him and shook his head remorsefully. There was still one thing Fíli could do, and if it meant ending the enchantment, he would gladly do it. Fíli tapped the blade on the flat of his hand a few times. He could feel the dark magic buzzing in it, thrumming through the hilt, asking for blood. And with a final look at his dancer he turned the blade and sliced deep across the palm of his hand. Blood flowed from the wound to the floor heavily and the dagger hummed in his grip before dissolving into a pile of ash.

"My Prince!" Dwalin shouted in surprise and Kíli gasped and reached out to grab his hand. Fíli winced as the cut burned and turned black and crusty, and Kíli rushed to wrap it in the some of the fabric of his shawl.

"Why…why did you do that?" Kíli stammered, and Fíli just smirked at him kindly. Then the dancer gasped and reached towards his back as the mark there faded and the pain eased.

"If it saves you, it is worth it," Fíli spoke quietly, inspecting the mark himself, before poking at the ashy remains of the weapon with his toe.

"I was to kill you, then steal the Arkenstone…they will notice soon," Kíli said worriedly, clutching tightly to the Prince's injured hand.

"As long as it buys us some time," Fíli said as he moved to lift Kíli from the ground. The other man stumbled, his legs giving out and his body failing from the stress. Even as Kíli slumped against him, Fíli helped him to the bed, pushing him down on the blankets.

"Rest for now," Fíli whispered, though the dancer's eyes had already closed, sleep claiming him. Dwalin still stood near the ashes of the dagger, prodding at the remains with his sword before scooping them into a pouch. When Fíli approached the guard scowled angrily at the Prince before glaring in the direction of the dancer.

"It's okay Dwalin, let him be," Fíli insisted, pressing Kíli's shawl tightly into the wound on his hand. Blood already soaked through the fabric, and it stung like he'd poured salt into it, but Fíli had suffered worse before.

"The Arkenstone…did he know?" Dwalin asked quietly, eyeing the dancer suspiciously.

"He did not look upon it," Fíli recalled and Dwalin sighed in relief.

"Then it's still a secret. Tha's good. It's still unwise to keep him in your rooms," Dwalin warned and Fíli rolled his eyes.

"You can't trust him, not after he's put a blade to your throat," the soldier insisted and Fíli chuckled heartily.

"You put a blade to my throat on a daily basis, and I trust you with my life," the Prince claimed. Dwalin blushed at the praise, but shuffled his feet and crossed his arms anyway.

"That's different my Prince," he muttered, but Fíli smiled and turned to look towards Kíli almost lovingly.

"Not to me."

* * *

_He rushed between the surrounding buildings, his bare feet slipping occasionally on the muddy ground. Voices echoed behind him as he scrambled to get away. His clothes were ratty, hanging off him in tattered shreds and he did not know where he headed. He thought he'd been safe. Anywhere was better; anywhere was safer than back with the scary men. He shrieked as his body tripped, his fingertips scraping against the stone pathway. The hurried footsteps behind him grew closer, and he heard the deep breaths of the men running after him. Quickly he regained his footing to run once more but a cold hand closed around his shoulder and pulled him back._

" _Finally, we've found you, little scamp is good at slinking about in the shadows," the tall one growled, throwing him back to the ground._

" _Won't be escaping this time," the fat one muttered._

" _Is he really the missing Durin?" one of them hissed, and the boy flinched and crawled into a nearby wall. The men surrounded him, forcing him in place and he cried as he realised he'd been captured yet again._

" _Look at his eyes, his face, it's obvious. And around his neck, he wears the chain, just like we were told," the taller hissed as the fat one grabbed at the boy's scraggly hair._

" _What should we do with him? Slit his pretty throat? Spread his little legs?" one asked another, and the boy sobbed and looked all around for a way to escape. He'd been so close to freedom! He was tired of cleaning, slaving, of living on barely nothing. He'd seen the palace shining in the big city, he was sure of it. There had to be somewhere else he could go._

" _There's a bounty on him, but only in one piece, you idiot," someone whispered, and the grip in his hair slackened. The boy took his chance, pushing off the wall and running back through the alley as fast as he could._

" _Get him! He's getting away!" one of the men shouted. Hands grappled at his coverings, but they tore and fell from his body in the struggle, and he was gone, fast as a shadow through the winding pathways. His lungs hurt, and his legs ached. He had splinters in his toes and fingers, and tears blurred his vision. Still he ran, blindly, until he flew out into an open road right into a horse's legs._

" _Ai!" a guard shouted, as the horse startled and reared, its legs shaking in the air. The boy scrambled back, but looked fearfully into the alleyway, before turning to run once more. But a solid grip on his arm held him in place, and he flinched as a blade was pressed to his gut._

" _Dar," a regal voice sounded, and the blade fell back from his body as feet stepped just before him. He looked up into the eyes of a tall well-dressed man. The boy wiped the tears from his face and looked at the long blonde hair and jewels that adorned the other in awe._

" _Aran?" The guard spoke but he was waved away._

" _Prestad?" The man asked, but the boy did not understand. His eyes turned and he saw the cloaked figures in the alley stop before slowly backing away. The blonde man did not miss the movement and he frowned into the darkened streets._

" _Mas dorthog?" he asked gently and the boy looked back at him blankly._

" _Do you know Westron?" he spoke and finally there was a slight recognition._

" _Are you lost?" The man asked next, reaching forwards to hold his hand out to the other._

" _Come, child, the streets are unsafe for you," he voiced, and the boy gripped his hand and allowed the man to pull him up in his arms._

" _Aphado nin_ , _we'll get you fed and washed, my name is Thranduil," he said and the boy gripped his fingers tightly into the loose fabrics draped across him. Thranduil studied the boy, noting the ragged nails, torn fingers, and dirtied skin. It looked as though the child had been living in the wild. The fiends hiding in the dark clearly wanted him for something. The boy sniffled against him and looked about fearfully, even as Thranduil mounted his horse and settled the other against his chest._

" _I won't hurt you, do not worry," Thranduil whispered, even as the boy's eyes closed and he fell into a deep long awaited sleep. It was then that Thranduil noticed the delicate chain hanging around the boy's neck, and he pulled the reigns of his horse, beckoning his guards to follow before lifting it and running his thumb across the engravings._

" _Valarin…, and Erebor's seal?" he muttered curiously, frowning at the thought of the Kingdom in the east. They did not have strong alliances with one another, though both refused to start a war, instead voicing their dislike in hateful letters and awkward visits. Though no messenger had come from Erebor in several years, and likewise Thranduil had not sent one either. He gazed at the child in his arms impassively. No child would be harmed under his watch, regardless of where they hailed from. The boy was clearly important, and he would ensure his safety at the very least._

* * *

Thorin sat anxiously next to his nephew in one of Erebor's meeting rooms, his advisor Balin at his side. They, as well as several members of the court huddled around a table discussing the events of the night prior. Dwalin was furious that someone or something had breached his security, and he raged about it vocally while Oín tended to the wound on Fíli's hand.

"You should have come to me immediately! Look at how it's festered overnight!" Oín muttered, and Fíli paid him little attention, only glaring at him as he prodded forcefully at the gash.

"Completely careless, slicing into your skin with a blade from who knows where! What if there had been poison on it, hmm? I suppose maybe you'll decide to listen when you lay on the ground dying somewhere," Oín rambled and Fíli rolled his eyes dramatically while Bofur chuckled at the healer's antics.

"Why did you slice your own hand Fíli? It was a bit extreme, don't you think? Why not bring the blade to Bifur, surely he could have done something about it," Bofur asked curiously, and Fíli shook his head.

"Kíli said a curse mark was placed upon him, we had little time," the Prince explained and Balin furrowed his brow.

"Dori, fetch the dancer, I need to see this mark," Balin requested, and Dori stood, grumbling about being used as a servant, before leaving the room. Oín dabbed a salve harshly on the cut, and Fíli grimaced but offered no words of complaint. Everyone watched the healer work in silence, only interrupted by the squawks of Bofur's bird and Óin's continuous mumbling.

"It will scar, the magic was strong, and you cut deep," Oín stated as he began to wrap bandages around the injured hand. It was then that Dori walked through the doors, a downcast Kíli following along behind. The dancer entered the room slowly and stood nervously in the corner, his hair hanging in his eyes as he tried to hide his face.

"By the Valar, how hard did you hit him Dwalin? I can see the engravings from your ring, honestly," Oín growled, standing to move across the room towards Kíli. The dancer tried to move his face away, but Oín gripped his chin hard and pulled it up to look closely. He sported a large cut on his lower lip, as well as a nick on his cheekbone, and the surrounding skin was beginning to blacken. Kíli wore no makeup, looking entirely different than the men were used to.

"Not hard enough if yeh ask me," Dwalin muttered beneath his breath, and Fíli shot him a seething glare.

"Sit Kíli, we have much to ask of you," Balin said gently, and the dancer managed to pull away from Óin's grasp for long enough to take a seat beside the advisor.

"What exactly did they say would happen if you failed to kill Fíli?" Balin asked and Kíli shuddered at the words while he glanced towards the Prince.

"The knife was to find me, and slit my throat in the night, and then…," Kíli spoke, his voice quiet and hesitant under the scrutiny of so many people.

"And…," Balin probed while he peered at the faded mark on Kíli's back. The other man tensed at his touch and rubbed at his arms uncertainly.

"And then violate me even s-still," he whispered finally, lowering his eyes to look at the elegant table between them.

"I'm sorry, I…," Kíli began but the advisor cut him off quickly.

"It's alright, it's not your fault, you were threatened," Balin insisted, studying the location of the brand, the shape, and the pale colour it had faded to.

"I call it cowardly," Dwalin seethed, and Fíli gripped his fingers into the wood of the table furiously.

"Dwalin that's enough," Thorin spoke this time, drawing the attention of the room. The guard immediately backed off at the King's command. Thorin eyed the dancer, the way he sat hunched over and fidgeted constantly. The King was no fool, he understood Dwalin's mistrust, but he couldn't help but think Kíli was innocent in this matter. And his nephew, young as he still was, clearly did not blame the other man. Thorin knew Fíli trusted the dancer completely, and so he had little choice but to support that decision, his faith in his heir unwavering.

"Oín, take Kíli and do what you can for his face. And have Bombur make him something to eat, he looks completely famished," Thorin ordered once Balin had finished studying the markings on the dancer's back. Kíli stood and followed the healer, only stopping once to look regretfully at Fíli's wrapped hand. If Thorin had doubted the dancer's faithfulness to his heir before, that action alone cleared his worries away.

"Well, I have more bad news," Balin uttered, as the members of the court sat tiredly around the table.

"There was an attack, within one of the neighbouring villages just last night as well," he explained.

"A fire, in a jeweller's shop, Gudrun's Garnets and Grains" the advisor elaborated, and many heads around the table nodded in acknowledgement.

"Many of our gemstones come from there, was he hurt?" Glóin asked worriedly. The tailor himself purchased several of his supplies through the jeweller in mention, to further adorn his garments.

"Bifur managed to contain the flames with some enchantments, and no one was harmed," Bofur said, leaning casually back into his seat.

"He's casting various spells on the remains he managed to gather, but is doubtful he'll find any information. The signature was similar to that left behind in Thranduil's Kingdom as well as the powder left behind from the dagger. Dark, and unfamiliar," the tamer noted, and he bent forwards to dip his midwakh into the box in the centre of the table. He tapped it gently before bringing the pipe to his lips and closing his eyes while he lit it. The tamer inhaled the spicy smoke from the Dhaka and sighed as it eased his nerves. Soon enough the room was heady with the wafting smoke as the others joined in as well.

"The Valar still protect us, the Arkenstone remains strong," Thorin breathed as smoke wafted from between his lips.

"Aye, but for how long, Bifur says our enemies most likely have many warlocks on their side, he alone cannot stop them all," the tamer added. The King shifted in his seat and turned to his advisor.

"If a war begins, and it very well may, whether we want it to or not, we will need aid," Balin said with a contrite nod.

"It seems we need the wizard, this is dark magic," Thorin voiced, and the room was filled with irritated groans. No one wanted to involve those outside of the Kingdom, or those with a penchant for meddling, but it seemed they had little choice. Balin scrawled a quick note on parchment before handing it to Bofur, and the tamer tied it off and placed it in his bird's beak.

"Khahinh, Sanbaghud," Bofur said clearly, and the bird fluttered its wings and bowed its head repeatedly.

"Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu," he finished with a quick pat to the bird's head, and it took off and flew through the small opening in the ceiling.

* * *

The people of the palace were in poor spirits for the rest of the day. Dwalin's sour mood and angry glares weighed on the shoulders of the palace guards, and they were tense and skittish at their posts. The King was unemotional as usual, and yet, noticeably grimmer around the eyes. Fíli was downtrodden as well. His head ached, as he hadn't slept in nearly a day, and his palm and neck stung from the wounds. He refused to complain, lest Oín catch word of it, and force him to suffer endless amounts of lectures about his carelessness.

When he was not consumed by thoughts of pain, his mind wandered to more troubling matters. He worried about the safety of the Kingdom, and the prospect of oncoming war. And every so often his thoughts would stray to the dancer, how afraid he had been, how much his arms trembled while he held a blade to Fíli's neck. The Prince recalled the intensity in the other man's eyes, and then the moment Dwalin's slap had reverberated through his room. He thought about Kíli's body, the way he danced, and wore the gifts Fíli had given to him. How his hair dragged across his shoulder, how his body bent nearly in half…how his ruby red lips felt wrapped around his cock.

And then his head began to throb again. It was best not to let his mind venture in such a direction. He rubbed at his brow as he entered the throne room, moving to sit beside his uncle. The droning music was already grating at his ears, and all he wanted to do was return to his rooms and sleep. And hopefully dream, about tanned exotic dancers and long legs enveloped around him. He groaned. It was impossible to avoid the thoughts. He had a taste, of what it would be like, and now he wanted more. Even though he knew Kíli was incredibly desperate at the time, and the intimate act he performed the previous night had meant nothing. He was hopelessly in love, with a man that probably revelled in stealing the hearts of many while giving his own to none.

He was so immersed in his thoughts he barely noticed the palace scribe walk into the room with the dancer beside him. Ori moved through the room, taking a seat nearby while Kíli stood before the Prince and King. Fíli looked the dancer up and down, noting his downcast eyes, and the prominent bruising on his face.

"Is he well enough to dance tonight?" the Prince asked, leaning over Bofur to address the scribe. Ori worried his lip and clenched his fingers in the fabric of his robe.

"He insisted, my Prince," the young man spoke, carefully avoiding answering the question and Fíli narrowed his eyes but sat back to watch as Kíli began to move. It was different than usual. The other man's movements were not filled with the same joy and energy they usually were, and every effort demonstrated underlying sorrow. Kíli moved slowly around the room, dancing with the hanging drapes as though they were lost loved ones. He did not smile, and Fíli could see the wet sheen atop his eyes and the red rims that circled them. As Kíli finished he knelt before the Prince and bowed low in submission, his hands splayed out to the sides.

"Lesten, dag nin," Kíli whispered, and Ori gasped and lifted his hands to cover his mouth.

"What is he doing? What did he say?" Fíli asked, leaning over Bofur yet again to question the scribe.

"H-he asks for you to end his life," Ori stuttered and Fíli's eyes widened as he looked at the man kneeling before him. Fíli glanced at his uncle who sat stoically with observing eyes. The Prince moved forwards and knelt as well, reaching out to touch the bottom of Kíli's chin. When he lifted the other's face, silent tears ran down it, and he carefully wiped them away.

"Did I not say no harm would come to you?" Fíli asked, and Kíli closed his eyes in anguish.

"After all you've done for me I repay you with such spineless actions, such betrayal. I do not deserve this life. I do not deserve your kindness," Kíli slurred the words together with a shaky voice while Fíli looked around them at the peering eyes of the court.

"I want you to dance again for me alone tonight, in my rooms," Fíli finally said, as he stood to pull the dancer to his feet

"You would still…?" Kíli trailed off, shocked by the request. How could the other man possibly want to be alone with him after what he'd done?

"My Prince," Dwalin murmured in warning but he was silenced quickly. Fíli had no patience for the guard in that moment, not while the bruise on Kíli's face was so glaringly visible.

"No more tears," Fíli whispered, wiping yet another trail away from the dancer's face.

"Come," The Prince said, ushering Kíli to follow, and Dwalin moved to stand as well.

"No Dwalin, leave us," Fíli spoke with such conviction that Dwalin sat immediately back down. The guard's eyes watched the two men leave, along with every other person in the court. It was not until the two were well out of sight that Dwalin slumped in his chair with a scowl.

"He is a fool to trust that boy, won't you put a stop to it?" the guard asked, addressing the King, but Thorin just smirked as he signalled the musicians to start a new song.

"Ah, it's a pointless effort. He's just as stubborn as me," Thorin said with a sigh and Dwalin snorted. It was a true statement. Dwalin had never met a more pig-headed bunch. It was probably one of the reasons he was so shrewd as well. Dealing with the royal family was difficult, even if they were caring and just. To deal with them, you had to become one of them. Never mind the fact that he had little success. In fact Balin seemed to have more luck with such things, and he was completely the opposite.

Dwalin frowned at the thought of his brother. The older man was always so self-assured when he spoke, cutting men down with nothing but words. It was a skill Dwalin did not possess, but who needed such things when you could simply beat your foes into submission. He huffed loudly and glared at the guards standing near the door. The two men stiffened and stood at attention. Good, he still had it.

Dwalin glanced upwards as a squawk sounded and Bofur's trusty osprey flew in from the ceiling and landed swiftly on the tamer's shoulder.

"Âkminrûk zu , Sanbaghud," Bofur muttered, patting his bird gently as he pulled at the scroll clasped between its beak. His eyes scanned the message quickly before he spoke.

"It's from your sister, my King. She's located Gandalf in the south they are returning with a caravan," the tamer said before setting the note aflame. His bird ruffled its wings, already restless and eager to go hunting and Bofur stood with a grunt.

"Excuse us your majesty, my lovelies are hungry," the tamer said with a smirk. Thorin offered him a nod and Bofur turned and left the room. Dwalin flexed his muscles and lifted his arms behind his head.

"Speaking of stubborn," he mumbled and Thorin chuckled quietly. The King's sister was probably the worst of the lot.

* * *

Fíli stopped repeatedly on the way to his rooms, making sure Kíli did not fall behind. The other man walked slowly, almost pensively behind him, and the apprehension was plain to see across his face. Once the Prince settled comfortably in his room, Kíli approached to dance, moving slow and repentantly as he had earlier that night. There was no seduction in his movements, and yet Fíli still found the other incredibly alluring. He followed Kíli's form from his eyes, down his neck, and across the exposed abdomen, lingering on the jewel that hung from his belly.

"You aren't wearing my panther tonight," Fíli spoke, reaching out to gently lift the jewel that hung in its stead. It was black, and beautiful on him of course, but Fíli liked the way his gift looked there more. The dancer stalled for a moment, breathing in and out as Fíli's fingers rest against his middle.

"I…did not feel I had the right," Kíli whispered and lowered his lids, his eyelashes creating dramatic shadows on his already discoloured face. Fíli frowned and released the jewel, dragging his fingers up the dancer's front. He stood and pressed his other hand to Kíli's back, while he dragged them both up and beneath the dancer's shawl. Fíli slowly began to unravel the fabric, pulling it from the other man's shoulders and eventually allowing it to drop to the ground.

Kíli shuddered as the Prince ran fingers across his skin, over his nipples and around his shoulders. He didn't know what to do. He'd never allowed another to touch him in such a way. Thranduil would have ordered any man that had to their death, just as he would have for any of the dancers in his court. But if Fíli wanted it, what choice did he have? Kíli closed his eyes, and did his best to calm his racing heart, but as warm fingers traced his collar bone and moved lower towards his belt he trembled and began to cry. Then when the hands pulled away his eyes opened immediately. Fíli was staring at his face with an expression of horror.

"I'm s-sorry, I-," Kíli stuttered, and his shoulders shook as sobs dominated his body. Fíli took a step away before rubbing at his face and heaving a sigh. He had not meant to upset Kíli further, he should have known better.

"Hush," Fíli muttered gently.

"I said no more tears," he spoke before lifting a light throw from his bed and wrapping it around the dancer's shoulders. Kíli clutched it loosely between his fingers and wiped away the wet trails on his face.

"Why are you so kind to me?" he asked. Fíli pushed his hair back from his face and steepled his hands before peering at the other man.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Prince questioned, turning towards Kíli with an intense look in his eyes. Fíli lowered his brow and placed a hand at the back of the dancer's neck, tilting the other man's head slightly back. Then he lent forwards, and closed the distance between their faces, brushing his lips over Kíli's for a few short moments. He wanted to devour the other man's mouth, claim the other's lips until there was no doubt they belonged to him. Instead he pulled away and pressed a chaste kiss to the dancer's cheek before resting against his head.

"You have stolen my heart," Fíli whispered into the other man's ear as he listened to his heavy breathing. Fíli pulled away regretfully, and then grabbed some blankets and pillows from his bed before tossing them on the floor.

"You will sleep here, in my rooms, until these mysteries are solved; they are the safest in the palace," Fíli ordered.

"I will not touch you, the bed is yours. I shall sleep on the floor," the Prince insisted, and he began removing his clothes. He threw his shirt onto the floor, and Kíli flushed and looked away.

"No! That's…that's not necessary," Kíli started to protest but Fíli turned to him with a hard stare.

"It is," he said stonily, and Kíli gazed at him in surprise. The Prince was visibly aroused, and Kíli swallowed as he remembered exactly what the other man looked like without the cover of cloth.

"Then I can…," Kíli tried to convince, but he was interrupted again.

"No, Kíli, you will take the bed," Fíli asserted, as he sat down on his makeshift pallet, leaving no room for argument.

* * *

Bofur wandered the plains just to the North of Erebor under the peaceful night sky. The stars shone visibly above and he studied them as he walked, his vision occasionally obscured by the wings of Sanbaghud. His bird had fed well on fish from the lake and rivers, but still enjoyed hunting rodents in the shrub land for fun. His tigers loved a good hunt as well, and had already feasted on a couple stray hyenas. Bofur's eyes dropped ahead of him as his bird circled the sky. She wasn't diving, so it must not have been appealing, but she certainly spotted something.

Bofur strolled towards the spot ahead and slowed as he saw exactly what had Sanbaghud interested. There were skeletons, everywhere. He bent next to one and figured it belonged to a black-tailed gazelle. The animals were fairly prevalent in this part of the desert, often travelling in large groups, though much further to the North and the land became nearly vacant of life. It looked as though an entire herd had died in this very spot. The skeletons lay clustered together, instead of spread as they might have been from fleeing an animal. And not a hint of flesh remained upon the bones. Bofur stood, walking further through the grouping of skeletons, looking for any signs of foul play. Even the surrounding plant life had decayed, leaving nothing but dried twigs and crumbling leaves. The tamer noticed his tigers standing off to the side, walking back and forth, but refusing to approach.

"What is it my lovelies? Is it magic?" Bofur asked them, and one hissed at the plains and bared its teeth. Bofur frowned. He knew of only one type of magic that might cause such isolated, yet comprehensive decay. Necromancy.

* * *

Kíli thought the following days would prove unbearably awkward, but each time he awoke, Fíli was gone from the room and extra pillows and blankets surrounded his body. Several guards stood on post outside the Prince's chambers at all times, and Kíli felt surprisingly safe inside them. He was escorted everywhere, not because of mistrust, but for protection, at the Prince's insistence. Though he knew Dwalin followed him, watched him near constantly, as though awaiting some deceitful act. He couldn't really blame him.

Kíli still felt guilty, and figured the Prince would tire of him and his dancing soon, especially after he'd cowered at the other man's touch. And so he was incredibly surprised when Fíli approached him early one morning and invited him to join him for the day, roaming some of the lands outside the palace walls.

"I know how much you enjoyed the rivers when you first arrived, and I thought you might like to go swimming. We have not yet visited the lake in the South of my Kingdom. It's quite a sight to behold," Fíli spoke with a kind smile, and Kíli swallowed nervously but agreed.

The Prince had not lied. The lake was gorgeous, and Kíli eagerly removed most of his clothing before slipping into the refreshing waters in only his light pants. He dove, and explored the lake floor, eyeing everything with curiosity. The colours were bold and bright. Many different fish swam between his legs, and the water was so clear he could easily see far in every direction. When the Prince's muscular form swam up beside him Kíli gasped and nearly choked on the water.

They spent the morning diving and exploring, while Fíli told him what each and every animal they came across was called. His favourite were the manatees, with their hulking bodies, and leisurely lifestyle. By the time afternoon came, the two lay next to each other on the bank of the lake, drying in the sun's rays. Kíli pondered the events of the past few days while his mind wandered to a specific moment.

"What is the Arkenstone?" Kíli asked, and Fíli turned to him before sitting up.

"I did not think you knew," he muttered in response.

"It's a jewel of our legends here in Erebor. The stories say, that my great grandfather Thrór, found a beautiful gemstone one day, before the time of our Kingdom. It was just after the last Great War, when the gods had abandoned this world because of the violence of men. Thrór was the sole survivor of his army, a King of old. When he found the stone, the gods listened to his prayers, returning his people to him and giving him this land," Fíli explained and he gestured to the palace, and the lands of Erebor.

"The Arkenstone is said to protect our people, and it is the reason our Kingdom exists," the Prince proclaimed and Kíli sat up beside him excitedly.

"I have heard of this before! But in my Kingdom they called it…Aearvír. It means sea jewel," Kíli said with wide eyes.

"Appropriate. It was in these very waters, that Thrór found the Arkenstone, and under this very tree that he was blessed with its power," Fíli watched as the dancer pulled his shawl back around his shoulders and crossed his legs.

"So it is real?" Kíli asked curiously as he stretched his upper body.

"It is just a legend," Fíli whispered without looking at the other man.

"I've heard people say it is the most beautiful gem in all the lands. That it shines so bright, it blinds those who look upon it. That it sparkles so brilliantly it steals the hearts of men and women alike," Kíli spoke wistfully as he peered up at the clear sky.

"Aye, that is what my people say of it as well," Fíli muttered, his eyes roaming Kíli's form.

"I can't imagine what something so beautiful could possibly look like, after seeing all of this, it must be incredible," Kíli spoke gently, and he turned to Fíli with an innocent smile. The Prince looked at him calmly. Even while sitting, Kíli contorted his body slightly, stretching to keep his muscles so flexible. In his blue satin coverings he looked as much like a jewel from the sea as anything.

"To me that is you, Kíli. You are my… Aearvír," the Prince whispered, and a deep flush filled the other man's cheeks. Kíli pressed his body to the ground and hid his face as he stretched his legs around easily. He could still feel Fíli's gaze burning into him, and even under the hot sun, chills ran across his skin.

The next day Kíli wore the panther.

* * *

Dwalin tailed the dancer whenever possible but had yet to see any suspicious activity. Kíli spent much of his time with the scribe in the libraries, to Dwalin's great pleasure, but on this particular day the dancer wandered out to the animal pens. Kíli seemed to love the animals, every single one, and in return they loved him back. The guard had never known another man to take so well to them besides Bofur of course. It was fascinating the way Kíli seemed to mesmerize even the wildest of beasts.

The dancer sat beside the tigers, petting their long fur and pressing his nose to their wet ones without fear. Even when a cat would yawn, baring its long sharp fangs not an inch from his face, Kíli simply smiled and watched. The most intriguing part was his relationship with the mother and her cubs. Kíli played with the little ones, rubbing their bellies and even rolling between them and the tigress, without a care in the world.

Bofur slinked up beside Dwalin, his two other tigers rubbing against the guard's legs as they passed by. Dwalin flinched slightly but coughed to cover up his alarm, while the tamer merely smirked at him with amusement.

"Interesting isn't it? Perhaps he was one of them in a past life," Bofur suggested as he gazed at the dancer in his stables.

"Even I don't like to get between Zahirah and her cubs, she's a fierce protector," he admitted with a smile before approaching Kíli. The dancer looked up at him before laughing as the other two tigers greeted him with licks across his face.

"Can I greet you like that as well?" Bofur asked slyly but Kíli just scoffed and turned his attention to the cubs again. He'd grown used to the other man's flirtation, and noticed that Bofur seemed to hit on just about anything that moved.

"Well that's a shame," the tamer pouted dramatically and sat nearby.

"I see you've met Zahirah, and her three beautiful little ones," he stated and Kíli grinned.

"Yes, what are their names?" the dancer asked as he scratched under their chins.

"The smallest is Layan, she's very mild mannered. This little guy is Shawqi. A ball of energy, he'll be a force to be reckoned with when he's fully grown," Bofur said, pointing at the cubs.

"The beauty you've got in your lap is Badra. She's a rarity, such lovely blue eyes," he spoke as he watched the white tiger roll and play on top of Kíli before gesturing to the two at his sides.

"And these two wild ones, that go with me wherever I travel, are Karida and Nadir. Karida…she's a vicious one, I doubt she'll ever mate with another. And Nadir is very precious to me. He was the first tiger I saw, one of my oldest friends," Bofur explained, while Kíli watched them all circle around before they wandered off throughout the stables. Zahirah did not allow her cubs to venture far, growling whenever one began to inch out of sight. The little white cub continuously hopped back around Kíli's lap, pawing at the jewels that hung from his shawl and body.

"Badra seems very fond of you, perhaps when she has grown you can have her," Bofur suggested and Kíli looked at him in surprise.

"…Really?" He asked and Bofur leered at him.

"For a price," the tamer implied with a wink, and Kíli rolled his eyes and went back to giving the tiger attention.

"I'm joking! I'm sure she'd be very faithful, and you would in return," Bofur said sincerely and Kíli looked up from under his eyelashes.

"Thank you," he whispered bashfully.

"Where did you get them from? I've never seen such beautiful animals," Kíli asked, standing to walk around the stable. Bofur joined him, showing him the various other animals in his care.

"The tigers come from far to the East, several Kingdoms away; I paid a good amount of gold for these three," he said, pointing to the fully grown ones lazing about. Bofur had a variety of birds and he introduced Kíli to his osprey, as well as a small family of parakeets, the occasional stray seabird, and a gorgeous long-eared owl. Kíli was watching the owl's head move back and forth when a tiny catlike creature skipped by and ran outside.

"What was that?" Kíli asked quickly and Bofur chuckled.

"That is Askadul, he's a sand cat. They prefer the desert lands, but every so often he'll pop his nose around these parts," the tamer said, leaning back against a wooden post. Kíli pulled his body atop one of the pens, allowing his legs to hang loosely below.

"It seems like you have everything you need here, so why venture to the other Kingdoms?" He asked as he kicked his feet back and forth and stretched out his toes.

"Erebor is self-sufficient, but good trade means good relations, which in turn keeps life peaceful. The other Kingdoms often have need of more fresh water, herbs, and precious metals that are prevalent in our lands, so we trade for their crafts and rarities in return," Bofur explained.

"We have strong trade with all of the Kingdoms to the south and east. The sparse desert lands of the west make it difficult to travel in that direction, too gruelling for packhorses. And…because of our poor relations with Thranduil in particular we rarely ventured further. But to the east and south, the trip is easier, even to travel long distances, as shade is prevalent, and there are small bodies of water along the way,"

"What about the North?" Kíli questioned and Bofur eyed him intently.

"The North is desolate. The Great Wars of past ended there, leaving nothing but rubble and dry land. It's bad luck to venture too far North," the tamer said in a quiet voice.

"You seem to travel a lot," Kíli remarked and Bofur smirked before moving to stand in front of him. The tamer placed his arms on either side of Kíli and looked up into his dark eyes.

"I do. I have a penchant for finding rare and exotic beauties," Bofur drawled and Kíli raised his eyebrow at him.

"Perhaps you could dance for me alone someday," the man suggested, lifting a finger to play with one of Kíli's dangling earrings. The dancer smiled erotically before licking his lips and slinking under the tamer's arms.

"Sorry Master Bofur, I only do that for the Prince, you'll just have to watch me in the court," Kíli teased, and he walked out of the stables, gracefully as ever, dragging his fingers across the wooden pillars. Bofur chuckled and rest his arm against the pen as he watched the dancer go. He couldn't help but feel envious of the visible attraction between those two. Kíli was good for the Prince; he gave the other man life, spirit. It had been ages since Fíli took interest in anything at all. Bofur looked down as soft fur brushed against his leg and he smiled sombrely.

"Ah, Nadir, at least I have you," the tamer whispered, as he ran fingers through his tiger's silky fur. Although his expression quickly turned sullen as he was reminded of a certain redheaded man.

* * *

Kíli studied with Ori in the library again. He was beginning to excel at speaking Khuzdul, almost as though he'd heard many of the words before. Sometimes he stumbled over the pronunciation, or had to take a moment to think of a term, but he was getting better, and it certainly made living in the palace easier.

Ori complemented him on his improvements every day and Kíli smiled and thanked the other man for teaching so well. The two had even ventured into some of the more ancient languages, looking at the symbols of the gods and old illustrated myths. While Kíli flipped through pages and looked at the pictures on them, Ori sketched some of his own. The young man tapped his quill against his inkwell before looking towards Kíli hesitantly. He waited until the other people in the library disappeared down various aisles before speaking.

"I've been thinking, that I might like to learn how to dance after all," Ori mumbled and Kíli looked up and grinned.

"Really? Great! Here we can start now!" Kíli said excitedly and stood, pulling Ori up with him. The scribe blushed as Kíli guided him through a few easy steps, showing him how to move his arms, and point his toes and soon Ori was smiling and had all but forgotten the other people around them. Kíli surreptitiously peered at Dwalin who was unsuccessfully trying to feign disinterest from behind a nearby shelf. The two practiced for nearly an entire afternoon, until Ori collapsed into a seat, sweaty and exhausted.

"You're doing well," Kíli said, as Ori took deep breaths and tried to catch his breath.

"It's tiring," he lamented while Kíli smiled, looking as though the dancing had not fazed him one bit.

"Let's take a break then, here you can help me stretch," Kíli suggested, twisting his body, and hooking his arms around his legs. Ori gently pressed down on the other man's legs, pushing them a bit farther and increasing the stretch, until Kíli moved into another position.

"How do you do…the things you do…with your body?" Ori questioned, pushing one of Kíli's legs up beside his head.

"What things?" Kíli asked as he evened his breathing.

"This! You…you bend, in almost unnatural ways! It's incredible really, and rather beautiful," Ori admitted. Kíli sat up and faced the other man, pressing his thumbs to his wrists.

"It was always something I excelled at," Kíli said with a smile.

"That's why they called you snake!" Ori blurted out and the dancer chuckled.

"Yes," he voiced before moving into another position.

"Not everyone can be a contortionist, though it is possible to increase your flexibility," Kíli spoke while Ori pulled on his arms.

"You don't have to contort to be a dancer. I think you will be very good; you have a natural instinct for rhythm. Perhaps we can dance for the court together one day," Kíli suggested and Ori flushed deeply and nodded his head, while Dwalin gazed at the scribe from behind a book about eastern architecture, a book he hadn't turned a single page in.

* * *

_Thranduil moved through the narrow halls of his palace quickly, searching in every nook and cranny even as walls collapsed and fire spread over the thick carpets. He heard the screams of others, of children and servants, guards, and royals alike. His own son…his own son had fallen, crushed by one of the heavy beams that held the structure so high. Thranduil had little time to grieve, and he growled and rushed onwards even as the image of his son's vacant eyes haunted his mind. If he could not save his people, and his own family, perhaps he could save the rest of the world. At the very least give the Kingdoms time._

_Glass shattered and flew into the hallway, throwing the King to the ground from the impact, and a ghostly beast charged through the opening and tore apart two guards before running towards him. He pulled his long sword from its hilt and swung, slicing the beast in half. But before his very eyes, ghastly smoke arose from its carcass and it formed the shape of two creatures instead of one. Manic laughter echoed throughout the chambers, and he knew he must hurry. His eyes narrowed, and he and three other guards rushed backwards through the hallways, running from the evil upon them. Thranduil stormed through foyer after foyer, watching as walls collapsed and vases smashed. The bodies of his men littered the ground as he searched for his target._

" _My King! We must leave the palace!" Aldaríon shouted at him from behind, but Thranduil turned and waved him away._

" _Go! Find your wife and son!" Thranduil ordered and he turned to continue his search. He was deep into the palace centre when he saw a familiar trembling form in a shadowy corner. Flames had not yet reached this part of the building, though near everyone had long since vacated the area. Thranduil hurried forward and pulled the dancer up by an arm._

" _Were you seen?" he hissed at the other man, who merely shook his head as tears fell from his face. Thranduil dragged him along behind, moving through more winding hallways until he pushed aside a tapestry, and nearly threw the dancer in an enclosed niche._

" _Do not allow them to find you!" Thranduil ordered and the dancer nodded._

" _Stay hidden, until long after they have gone, do you understand me?" he asked hurriedly and received another nod. Thranduil pulled the chain from around the other man's neck and tied it around his ankle instead, tucking it behind the other jewels that adorned it._

" _Keep this concealed! Don't let anyone see!" Thranduil spoke in a rush before he looked the other up and down. He pulled the dancer into a fierce embrace, entangling his fingers in the dark hair on his head._

" _May the Valar of Erebor protect you, if Irmo cannot," Thranduil whispered before placing a quick kiss to the man's brow and rushing back into the ruins of his palace._

* * *

Kíli woke with a start, a cold sweat upon his body. His heart was racing and tears leaked from his eyes, but he could not remember the details of his dream. He only knew he had felt cold, lonely, and incredibly terrified. Slowly he inched his body into a sitting position, blinking into the dark corners of the room. He hadn't had a nightmare like that in years, not since he was a child. Kíli crawled to the edge of the bed and hung his legs over the side. The Prince laid not far away, his chest rising and falling with the deep breaths of sleep.

Slowly Kíli stood, moving to kneel beside the other man. He watched Fíli sleep as he wiped tears from his face and chuckled lightly when the other man's nose twitched. Kíli squeezed his fingers into the pillows the Prince rest upon and bit his lip before sliding carefully down atop the other man. He niched his head between Fíli's neck and shoulder then huddled closer to his warmth. Fíli jerked in his sleep and blinked his eyes open, looking down at the dark head of hair on his chest with confusion.

"What are you doing here?" He croaked out, his voice scratchy from disuse. Kíli snuggled a bit closer and gripped his fingers tightly in the blanket atop the other man.

"It's not fair, that you rest on the floor while I rest on your bed each night," Kíli muttered sleepily, closing his eyes as sleep began to claim him once more.

"You'd prefer to rest on me?" Fíli asked quietly, shifting slightly under the other man's weight.

"You're warmer," Kíli whispered, his voice drifting off a bit at the end as his breathing steadied and his grip on the other man went lax. The Prince stared at the ceiling with bemusement for a moment before he lifted a hand around to the other man's back. He startled slightly at the sheen of sweat there and turned his head to look at Kíli's face. The remains of tear tracks were visible even in the dimmed light and Fíli rubbed gently at the other man's back, resting his fingers atop the raised mark there.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He asked gently, but Kíli was already asleep again. The Prince brushed the hair from Kíli's face and wiped away the remaining tear trails, before gripping the dancer in his arms and lifting him. Kíli slumped against him, but Fíli managed to hoist him atop the bed, even with his sleep addled brain. He looked briefly back at his makeshift bed on the ground and decided against it, slipping in beside the dancer's lithe body.

Fíli stared at Kíli's face for several minutes, watching how it relaxed in the throes of sleep, how his lips pouted just a bit, and opened a touch while he breathed. The other man's eyelashes fluttered occasionally and every so often his tongue slipped out to wet his lips. It was a bad idea to stay there beside the dancer, but Fíli could not bring himself to turn away, and soon his thumb played gently with Kíli's lower lip, and their faces nearly touched. He knew he shouldn't, but the Prince could not resist stealing a kiss in that moment. He ran his tongue over Kíli's open lips and pressed it between them once before pulling away.

Kíli did not wake, though quiet little sounds escaped his throat every now and then. Fíli rested his hand against the dancer's belly, stroking his thumb languidly across the soft skin. He looked down when a finger nudged against something cool, and realised Kíli had not removed the jewel he wore that day. And as Fíli recognized it was the panther, a warm smile encompassed his face. He stared at it for a long while, just caressing the skin beneath, until finally sleep claimed him as well.

In the morning, as bright sunlight streamed in through the windows, Dwalin looked down upon the sight disdainfully. The Prince had Kíli's upper body encased within his arms, though the rest of the dancer was sprawled unattractively across the bedding. Somehow Kíli still managed to look like a god, even as drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his arms flailed off to the sides. One of Fíli's legs was wedged between the other man's and Dwalin could clearly see where the Prince's hand clenched into the dancer's cloth covered ass. The guard's eye twitched angrily, and he crossed his arms before coughing loudly, and louder still when that resulted in nothing at all. Finally Dwalin kicked the side of the bed, startling the young Prince awake.

"What in Šebeth…?" Fíli muttered as he shielded his eyes from the light and looked up at the other man.

"My Prince, yer uncle has requested your presence," Dwalin deadpanned.

"Why?" Fíli asked, falling back onto the bedding. Kíli began to stir and Dwalin eyed him suspiciously.

"Yer mother has returned," the guard continued, and Fíli shot up with a grin. The Prince began to get ready as Dwalin left them, throwing one last scowl in Kíli's direction. The dancer dressed as well, and soon the two men were walking together through the halls of Erebor. It was in that moment Fíli remembered the events of the night before. How Kíli had fallen asleep so easily on top of him, and how he had taken a kiss from other man's sultry red lips. His eyes followed the dancer, and he noticed with satisfaction that he still wore the panther in his navel.

"What?" Kíli asked indignantly, after growing tired of such scrutiny. The Prince stopped walking suddenly, and then pushed Kíli into the wall nearby as he looked directly in his eyes.

"Climb into bed with me again, and I cannot promise I will keep my hands to myself," Fíli spoke, carefully forgetting that he had not kept his hands to himself even the night before. He pushed away, and walked briskly down the hall, but stopped in surprise as Kíli ran up beside him and held him in place. The dancer stood before him and gripped his face, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Fíli gasped for air as the other man pulled away and turned to continue walking, like he'd done absolutely nothing at all. The Prince stood shell-shocked as he watched Kíli walk away, his body moving gracefully as always, and then a lopsided grin filled his face when the other man turned to look back at him nervously. They strode the rest of the way like that, Kíli turning to peer at him occasionally while Fíli smirked happily in return.

* * *

Thorin stood tall and steady at the front gates of the palace as he watched Dís approach on foot. She stood at the base of the stairs for a few moments, studying him, before she shook her head and rushed up towards the King, nearly knocking him over with the force of her embrace.

"Brother," she said, smiling into his robes and Thorin wrapped equally strong arms around her as well.

"Welcome home, my sister," he voiced, pushing her away to study her features. She looked a bit worn, and perhaps thinner than before she had left, but well enough.

"You haven't changed one bit!" She exclaimed and the King lifted the corner of his mouth slightly, not sure whether his sister was pleased or disappointed by that notion.

"Now where's my little boy?" Dís asked before a golden haired man appeared from behind Thorin and pulled her into a hug as well.

"Right here mother!" Fíli gasped, as Dís squeezed the life out of him.

"Fíli! Look how you've grown!" She muttered, her eyes alight with happiness at the sight of her eldest son.

"You say that every time, whether I've grown or not," Fíli muttered cynically. Dís huffed and knocked him on the shoulder.

"Because it still feels like yesterday you were but a foot tall, latching onto my skirts. But my goodness, you're practically glowing with happiness," she said, studying her son's face. It was true. When she'd left, Fíli had been exasperated and tired. He wandered the halls drearily each day, looking for something interesting to catch his eye, but nothing ever did. Now his eyes were alight with joy, like he'd found a new life altogether. Dís's eyes strayed just over his shoulder to a figure standing behind him.

"And who's this?" she asked, as the dancer approached, bowing as he had when he first met the King.

"Ah, a dancer, left in the wreckage in the Western Kingdoms," Fíli explained, resting his hand on the other man's shoulder and pulling him in front. Dís eyed him, and lowered her head to catch sight of the young man's face.

"He had no name, so I gave him Kíli's," Fíli mentioned, as though it were the most insignificant thing in the world. But Dís widened her eyes in surprise before moving to lift the dancer's chin. She gaped at the man before her in disbelief, studying every inch of his face.

"Kíli?" she whispered under her breath.

"Where did you find him?" she gasped out, moving her hands up to touch his cheek bones. Kíli watched nervously, but did not flinch as the woman looked at him thoroughly. She peered into his dark brown eyes, and at the shape of his nose, over his bone structure and dark silky hair. Then to his jaw line, and the rounded point of his chin, and at the full lips that formed a slight pout.

"It…cannot be," she muttered, pushing the hair away from his eyes, and rubbing a thumb across one of his thick eyebrows.

"What?" Fíli asked, while Thorin watched the interaction inquiringly, but Dís just pulled away with a brilliant smile.

"It's nothing," she said, though her eyes focused intently on the dancer and she smiled broader than she had in a long while.

"Welcome to our Kingdom, _Kíli_ ," Dís said, bowing slightly.

"Ah…thank you," he responded in kind, slightly stumbling over the words with his nerves so on edge.

"Khuzdul is not his native tongue, he's still learning," Fíli said, resting his hands on Kíli's shoulders. In that moment Thorin noticed the other figure that loomed at the bottom of the palace stairs, and he groaned in annoyance. The King had temporarily forgotten the real reason Dís was summoned home as he watched her reunion with Fíli. Gandalf observed them all with a carefree expression and he chuckled happily as he ascended the stares towards them.

"Thorin! It's been ages since I last saw you. I trust the blue skies and crisp clean air of Erebor has treated you well these past years," the wizard tittered and Thorin frowned in his direction.

"As well as ever," he spoke with slight disdain, though he still greeted the tall man with a nod. As Gandalf reached the final step he groaned and rubbed at his back.

"Rickety bones I'm afraid, not the same as they used to be," the wizard spoke, though he still held on to his cheerful disposition.

"You've been saying that for years," Thorin muttered under his breath. The King could remember when he'd first met the other man, ages ago. He'd been just a child at the time, and even then the wizard looked as though he was on his last legs. Then years passed by, and Gandalf looked old as ever, but still full of life. Whatever the wizards did it was working. And sometimes Thorin wondered just how old the other man was. Gandalf offered a nod towards Fíli as well as a knowing smile in Kíli's direction before Dís hurriedly shuffled the group inside. She turned to her son, pushing him lightly in the other direction.

"You two go have fun; we have boring, mundane things to discuss," Dís insisted, and the Prince laughed and pulled Kíli along beside him. She watched the two go fondly before ushering the other men into a meeting room.

* * *

Thorin sat with his sister at one side, and Balin and Dwalin at the other as they spoke with Gandalf the Grey. The wizard had spent several minutes talking about trivial things, the countryside, the beauty of the Southern Kingdoms, and the glorious marshlands to the East.

"You really should visit more often Thorin, it might help you relax. You might find a wife! Or even a husband!" Gandalf said with a chuckle and Dís snorted her drink from her nose beside him. Thorin merely frowned at the wizard, tired of his small talk, but interrupting the other man was nearly impossible. It was Balin that finally intervened, suggesting they get down to business, in the calm manner that only he could manage.

"Why, yes, of course, good sir," Gandalf voiced, readying a pipe and smoking an herb far richer than Thorin was used to. The smell irritated his nose and grated on his already pounding head.

"You know, who is behind this, do you not?" Thorin probed, growing increasingly impatient with the other man's ability to avoid speaking on the matter at hand.

"Hmm, I have a notion, but nothing more, rumours, mutterings, whispers in the dark. My colleague Sarumon thinks they are nothing but tales. There is no proof, not really," Gandalf began, and Thorin tapped his fingers against the wooden table they sat around. Even Balin looked as though he wanted the tall man to get on with it.

"Perhaps with the power of the Arkenstone, I could look deeper. Your grandfather-," Gandalf began to suggest but Thorin cut him off quickly.

"My grandfather entrusted this Kingdom and the Arkenstone to my father, who then entrusted it to me," the King spoke, furious at the notion that anyone should have access to its gifts.

"We've taken a vow; the stone remains in our hands, and ours only," Thorin insisted, while Balin nodded in agreement. Dís remained calm and quiet, waiting for the conversation to continue.

"Of course, of course, my mistake. It was entrusted to your family. It would be unwise to allow another to use its powers. I must confess, I merely wished to look upon its legendary beauty, just once," Gandalf smiled cheerfully, as though he had not just asked to take their greatest possession at all.

"Though proof of its existence might help sway my colleague into aiding in our cause," the wizard suggested, as he blew small tufts of smoke rings throughout the room.

"One wizard is enough thank you," Balin interrupted and Gandalf raised a brow in his direction. He took a deep breath and lowered his face, looking up at the King's advisor as though he were a child.

"You say that, but you do not yet know the power of the foe you may face," Gandalf muttered. Balin visibly bristled at such disrespect and Dwalin's fists tightened where they rest atop the table.

"And who is this foe?" The large guard inquired, drawing the wizard's attention towards him.

"A secret society, that walks in the shadows. They call themselves, the dušamanûðân," Gandalf explained. Finally, they were getting somewhere. Thorin frowned at the Valarin, it was an unfamiliar term to him, but he could see that Balin understood just fine.

"The marred? Why?" his advisor asked quickly.

"I do not know for sure, though I've heard disturbing things. That they are decrepit souls, decaying in their form, held together only by magic, dark magic," Gandalf intoned, looking incredibly sombre at the notion.

"Bofur mentioned unusual sightings just to the North of here. He suspected necromancy, said the killings were too precise and widespread to be any other kind of magic. He spoke of a rank scent in the air, much like in Thranduil's Kingdom," Thorin uttered, eyeing the others around the table.

"Do you think it could be related? Are they…resurrected somehow?" Dís asked worriedly.

"I have no doubt that they are," Gandalf said, his voice firm. Balin sat back stiffly in his chair, while Dwalin looked at Gandalf with widened eyes.

"What exactly is it they want?" Thorin asked the wizard.

"Power," Gandalf spoke with a slight smirk, as though it was the most obvious notion in the world. Thorin scoffed and probed further.

"But for what purpose?" He urged. Gandalf tapped his pipe lightly and Thorin eyed the ashes that fell to the floor.

"I have heard whisperings, a prophecy of sorts. They say there is a key, to open the door to Valimar," The wizard commented, and Thorin's expression grew anxious.

"The Arkenstone?" He nearly whispered.

"Perhaps so. It seems your Kingdom has become a target," Gandalf remarked casually.

"Its power is merely a legend!" Dís shouted but the wizard turned to her with doubt in his eyes.

"Is it?" Gandalf queried. He was met with only silence and wandering eyes.

"You've always had such prosperity in Erebor, it is not merely a legend, is it? The Arkenstone is the source, and the Valar protect you because of it. If there is a war, Thorin, you must know how to use your power," Gandalf advised but the King merely huffed in response.

"If the Valar see fit, we shall be protected," Thorin insisted, his arms crossed defensively in front of him.

"What if your foe is one of them?" Gandalf suggested as he began to puff more intricate shapes from his pipe. Surprised gasps sounded around the table.

"A Vala?" Balin questioned hesitantly.

"That's, impossible!" Dís bellowed. Gandalf urged them to calm down before he continued to speak.

"Who else would have the power to raise the dead? Even I do not have the ability to dabble in such things," the wizard murmured, taking a sip from his curiously coloured drink. Gandalf swallowed slowly before moving his eyes in the King's direction.

"Keep it secret Thorin, keep it safe. In the wrong hands, the Arkenstone could result in the end of Šebeth as we know it," Gandalf implored him.

"And in the right ones?" Thorin asked as he rubbed his hair from his face.

"Such an artefact, could change the world, there is so much potential," Gandalf uttered, before he moved to stand. Balin joined him, to show him in the direction of his rooms.

"We would never exploit our gift," Thorin voiced to the wizard's back and the tall man paused at the entrance, turning to look back inside the room.

"I know this, and your people know this. I merely suggest you prepare for whatever may come," Gandalf explained, and Thorin sighed deeply. They sat in silence until Dwalin excused himself to resume his post at Fíli's side.

"I dislike wizards," Thorin grumbled and Dís chuckled lightly.

"As do I brother, but I believe we are in need of whatever aid we can gather," she admitted, and Thorin had to agree. His nephew had already been targeted, along with the Arkenstone. How long before they discovered what it looked like, where it was hidden? Thorin looked towards his sister and he frowned slightly. Even during such troublesome times she seemed almost pleased, at peace. She was smiling, and her frame was relaxed as she looked up at the ceiling.

"You seem far more cheerful than I remember; I cannot recall the last time you smiled so brightly," Thorin commented and Dís turned towards him with a brilliant grin.

"The Valar have returned my son to me," she gasped and the King gaped at her blankly.

"Haven't you noticed? The dancer, in his face, his eyes, his hair?" She whispered excitedly and Thorin blinked.

"He's my son, he's my Kíli, I know he is," she uttered, her eyes alight with joy.

"You cannot be serious," Thorin chided, but she laughed at him and leant back easily in her seat.

"Do not doubt a mother's intuition Thorin," Dís jeered.

"I know when I look upon my own child's face," she maintained loudly, her eyes daring Thorin to disagree.

"I did not deign to hope. For but a moment the thought crossed my mind…but…," Thorin began hesitantly. His sister leant towards him placing a hand atop his shoulder.

"It is him, it is truly Kíli, my little boy. Goodness, he has grown into such a beauty," she rejoiced, before clasping her hands in front of her body while Thorin sat in shock.

"There's something else as well," Dís revealed, nearly bouncing in her seat with excitement. Thorin eyed her until she caved.

"Fíli is in love with him," she nearly shouted, and Thorin just looked at her distantly. He was still caught up in the notion that the dancer was actually his lost nephew.

"With who?" The King asked, and Dís slapped him in the arm. He looked at her, affronted, and rubbed at his arm to ease the pain. Sometimes his sister forgot her own strength.

"My goodness brother, you're dense as always," Dís reprimanded him. But when he just continued to look at her blankly she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

"Kíli of course," she spat out and Thorin's gaze widened.

"You saw that in just those few moments?" The King remarked and Dís smiled at him gently.

"A mother sees everything," his sister declared and Thorin tugged at his beard nervously.

"What should we do?" The King asked, his voice gentler than Dís had heard in ages. Her gaze softened, glad to see a hint of the brother she once knew, the brother that was once a Prince and not a King.

"We? We do nothing; it is in the hands of our Valar. I do not want to interfere, best to let their relationship develop as it's meant to. And what about you brother?" Dís asked with a playful smirk. Thorin raised an eyebrow at her and she chuckled.

"Have you found one to share your bed with?" The Princess asked spiritedly, and Thorin looked affronted by the comment.

"Brash as always. No, there is no one, in my bed, other than me. I do not believe I shall ever love," The King uttered, his expression turning sour again.

"You're wrong my brother, Someday the gods will give you one to love, and you will know nothing greater. It will strike you down like lightning where you stand. Love is above even a King's control," Dís insisted, though Thorin highly doubted her statement. The King remembered the day his sister had fallen in love, completely besotted with a blonde man from the South. He also remembered the day she had lost him. And then only three years later, her own child was stolen from her. But she looked happy again, happier than he had seen in a very long time. His sister began to hum cheerfully, standing and moving from the room, leaving Thorin to think on her words alone.

* * *

Kíli wiggled his toes where they hung out over the balcony. The view from the palace was incredible. He could see the winding streets of nearly the entire Kingdom, the tiny forms bustling about in the busy pathways. He'd never seen a place with such energy and life. The people seemed truly happy here, even while working many sang tunes with a smile upon their face. Little shops were scattered about, selling a wide variety of wares, and Kíli hoped someday he would see it all up close, though he supposed it was not terribly safe to do so.

The dancer had not left the palace walls, other than the trip the Prince and he took to the Lake in the south of the Kingdom. And even then he had not seen much of the city around the palace, only the tiny dirt path they had taken along the outskirts. But from up high, he could see it all. Kíli closed his eyes as a warm breeze blew through his hair. The air was so clean, he really loved Erebor.

Fíli's mother seemed like a wonderful lady as well. She was so friendly, and her eyes and expression were sincere as she spoke. Kíli could almost pretend it was like meeting a long lost friend, the way she'd looked at him and welcomed him. He sighed as he wondered what it would have been like to grow up in such a place, with interesting friends and a caring family.

"What are you thinking about so intently?" Fíli asked, pulling Kíli from his thoughts. The dancer opened his eyes and looked at the Prince wistfully.

"Family," he replied, and Fíli frowned a bit before looking back out across the Kingdom.

"When we first met you mentioned a brother…but I have not seen him," Kíli mentioned, watching as the Prince's expression grew forlorn.

"He was taken from us, years ago. He was only three at the time, still so tiny. When I first saw you…I was reminded of him a bit. You have dark hair and eyes just like he did," Fíli answered calmly, his attention directed towards a group of horses frolicking just outside the palace walls.

"Does it not hurt to call me by his name?" Kíli asked, and this time the Prince turned to look at him.

"I have long since given up on ever finding him again. I'm sure he has passed on from this world. It was time to let go. Besides, the name suits you," Fíli spoke with a smile and Kíli returned it with one of his own.

"Did you have any siblings in the west?" Fíli asked gently. Kíli gripped the railing between his fingers and rest his face against the ornate bars.

"No, I never knew my family. The closest might have been the King," he admitted and Fíli gaped at him awkwardly.

"King Thranduil?" the Prince exclaimed in disbelief and Kíli chuckled at him. Thranduil was not known for his kindness or caring nature. The King had always immersed himself in politics and treaties, his first love his Kingdom. Thranduil did have a wife and son, and Kíli figured he loved them very much, but it was never shown. The King rarely displayed any emotion, at least not in the presence of others.

"He found me. I don't remember our first meeting well, I was young, and afraid. But he took me to his palace and I was raised with the dancers. He was not terribly friendly. Very serious, stoic, much like Thorin. I imagine many Kings must be this way. But he did ensure my safety. And for that I am grateful," Kíli explained.

"As am I," Fíli spoke before tugging the other man to rest against his shoulder. Kíli relaxed against the Prince and flushed when he felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. He wondered what it must be like to have had family, only to have them taken away. Would it be worse than having no one at all? Or would it be better, to at least have some memories together? Kíli dozed as the Prince pulled him closer, relaxing in the other man's embrace. For once he felt like he had found a home, like he truly belonged.

Fíli watched the dancer slumber in his arms contently. He was happy with what he had been given, and felt more complete than ever before. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved the man in his embrace. The kiss Kíli pressed to his lips earlier that morning had been unreal, and entirely unexpected. He gazed at the way Kíli's body curled into him an itched to touch him further. Slowly his fingers drifted beneath the soft fabric of the other man's shawl and he ran a hand up over the slight ridge of a nipple. Kíli moaned then gasped loudly and pulled away, covering his mouth and flushing deeply. His back was pressed against the railing as he looked towards the Prince fearfully, fully awake.

Fíli dropped his eyes, cursing his own weakness. Kíli had lowered his guard completely, and he had taken advantage of that. He may have joked about doing such things, but never was it his real intention to cause harm towards the other man. He would never force Kíli, no matter how much he longed to slide against the other's skin.

"I'm sorry," Fíli muttered, running a hand across his face. When he looked up Kíli lowered his head bashfully before reaching to tug at Fíli's toe playfully. It seemed his dancer was merely shy, he would just have to take things a bit slower.

Fíli reached forwards to grab Kíli's hand, before lifting it to his lips. He kissed his palm and wrist gently then played with the other man's fingers.

"Would you like to go see the villages up close tomorrow?" Fíli asked hopefully, and Kíli's eyes widened with excitement, his previous nervousness forgotten.

"Yes!" he nearly shouted, turning to look down through the railing at the bustling city. The shop keeps were just beginning to close up for the evening, as the sun started to set over the hilly mounds of desert beyond. Fíli sat back and watched as Kíli peered out at the land, completely enraptured. As the light from the sun turned a deep red Kíli's skin glowed a sensual colour, while intense shadows highlighted the curves and angles of his frame. Occasionally the other man turned and glanced back at him nervously, but Fíli remained stationary, leaning back against the intricate doors that led inside.

Then before his very eyes the dancer sat up, and glanced at him again, though this time coyly, and Fíli watched as the other man slowly unravelled the shawl he had wrapped around his shoulders. It fell delicately from his skin, and soon Fíli was left looking at Kíli's naked back. The sight was gorgeous, and amplified even further when the dancer unbound his hair and pulled it forwards, the silky strands falling loosely across his collar bone. Fíli took it as an invitation, sliding forwards until he could rest his head against the other man's shoulders. Kíli swallowed but did not flinch, and as Fíli dragged strong fingers up his spine he shivered and his breath hitched in his throat.

"I promise I won't hurt you," Fíli whispered into his ear, letting his hands rest on Kíli's waist, while his thumbs caressed the brand on his lower back. The Prince kissed along the dancer's neck and upper back, leaving a cold wet trail that seared against Kíli's heated skin. Fíli's hands roamed further, wrapping around Kíli's front and running up his chest to entangle in the long strands of hair that fell over the other man's shoulders. He pulled the dancer into his lap and began combing out the dark mane as gently as he could manage.

Kíli could feel the Prince's arousal pressed tauntingly into his rear, but he trusted the other man, knew he would not harm him, and relaxed as thick fingers began weaving his hair together intricately. Kíli was already half asleep when Fíli finished tying off the ends of a braid, and the rhythmic rise and fall of the Prince's chest lulled him the rest of the way.

* * *

Dwalin walked the streets under nightfall because it was the only time of day he'd find the man he sought. Even the safest alleyways looked frightening and imposing under the cover of darkness, though Dwalin would never admit such a thing. The moonlight cast dramatic shadows off the walls and hanging canopies, and more than once the soldier had mistook one for the shape of another man.

Dwalin wasn't the stealthiest man. He was abnormally large, even for a man, and his feet naturally thumped as he walked. Some said he had giant's blood in him, but Dwalin had never seen a giant, and he was pretty sure they were just from children's tales. Still he tried his best to stay hidden and quiet as his eyes searched for pointed red hair in the shadows. Dwalin knew if the thief did not want to be found it would be nearly impossible, and he'd almost given up hope when his ears picked up a hushed conversation. Dwalin inched closer to the pathway, listening intently for a familiar voice.

As his head peeked around the corner he saw two men, whispering in hushed voices, though their faces were not clear. Still, he'd recognize Nori's silhouette anywhere, especially since he'd spent so many years chasing him through these very streets.

As he inched around the corner the voices stopped, and Dwalin just barely caught as recognition flickered across the other man's eyes. In a second both men were off like a shot in the dark and Dwalin rushed to follow as fast as he could. He could barely see the billowing fabric of Nori's scarves drifting behind him, and the red tufts of hair that occasionally caught the light of the moon.

Dwalin ran until his breath was failing him, and he nearly caught up, until he turned a corner and ran right into a clothesline.

"Blast!" Dwalin shouted as he struggled to remove the women's undergarments from atop his head. He staggered beneath the line, and started running again, but at the next corner, not a hint of the thief could be seen.

"Damn it Nori!" the guard hollered and he punched the wall beside him in frustration, loose stone crumbling away. Not moments later he felt cold metal at the back of his neck and as he turned his head to the side slightly he saw Nori's masked face. The other man had the gall to laugh at him, but Dwalin just frowned and waited for an opening. He wasn't Thorin's head guard for no reason.

Blades of all varieties had been pressed against his skin before, and instead of recoiling from the contact Dwalin pressed forwards into it, easily catching the thief off guard. He took his opening and turned, pushing the smaller man into a wall hard. Nori coughed as the wind was knocked out of him and his tiny dagger fell with a clang to the ground. Dwalin observed the jagged scar over Nori's right eye, his blind eye, and then looked into the other. Even with the mask over his mouth Dwalin knew the thief was scowling at him.

"Do not take me so lightly, I could have you back in chains in a moment," Dwalin hissed at him, tightening his hold in the front of Nori's scarf. At that the thief's eyes crinkled and he let out a soft chuckle before twisting free of the guard's tight grip. Dwalin sputtered as silky fabric fell between his fingers, the body once beneath, curiously absent. Nori slunk back into the shadows and when Dwalin turned around he was sitting high up on a canopy that stuck out from the wall. The blasted thief was smirking at him, his mask lowered, leaving his chin and mouth visible to the other man.

"Then why am I not in chains?" Nori asked, as he played with a coin between his fingers, like he had not a care in the world. Dwalin grumbled angrily before leaning back against the stone wall opposite.

"I'm not here to arrest yeh," he intoned, and Nori eyed him warily with a raised eyebrow. There were only two reasons men searched him out in the alleyways at night, either to arrest him, or to get information.

"A man needs payment for that sort of thing," the thief drawled and Dwalin grunted before pulling a small pouch from his pocket and tossing it up to him. Nori opened it and inspected the contents eagerly before tucking it away and grinning with satisfaction.

"Now then, what do you want to know?" he asked quietly and Dwalin looked down the alleyway cautiously before speaking.

"There are whisperings of an organization called the marred, what do yeh know of them? Are they real and are they a threat?" Dwalin whispered and Nori breathed in deep before leaning back against the stone behind him.

"They have been around for many years, since long before even you or I was born," he began and Dwalin frowned. How was it possible that an organization like this had worked so long in the shadows, without attracting some attention to their actions?

"Some say they were the ones that stole the missing Prince, all those years ago," Nori suggested, and Dwalin's eyes widened in surprise.

"The child? But what would they want with him? And why have we not heard such things before?" the guard asked curiously. They had searched far and wide for that child, and found absolutely nothing of worth. It was why the Princess had wandered aimlessly, from Kingdom to Kingdom for so many years.

"They move and work in the shadows, speak in riddles, excel at keeping secrets. No one knows these things," Nori muttered, absently twisting his dagger around in his hand.

"And yet you know," Dwalin intoned and Nori smirked wildly.

"Of course, it is my profession to do the same," the thief jeered, sitting back confidently. Dwalin paced the cobble road, recalling the meeting he'd sat in on earlier.

"Then the wizard did not lie to us," the guard muttered under the breath, but in the silence of the night Nori's trained ears easily overheard.

"Gandalf the Grey? No, he did not, and yes, before you ask, they are after the Arkenstone," the thief conversed and Dwalin raised his eyebrow at him in surprise.

"My profession, remember?" Nori justified.

"And…who controls them?" Dwalin pressed. At this Nori stalled, though it was clear he knew something. The thief looked around cautiously before he spoke.

"They call him Azog," Nori whispered, and Dwalin frowned heavily.

"Azog? But he was slain in battle, centuries ago, how could he possibly be alive? It must be another by the same name," Dwalin insisted, and he looked to the other man for confirmation. Nori shifted uneasily as though he was troubled by their conversation.

"I don't know much, only that even he is controlled by another force," Nori finally stated.

"A Vala?" Dwalin asked quickly, remembering his brother's suspicions. This time the thief groaned and rubbed at a stitch in his side.

"I dunno! I listen, I watch, that is all. I've not heard a name spoken," Nori insisted, settling back and crossing his arms defiantly. Dwalin knew he would get no further information that night, no matter how much he pushed. Still he remained in the alley, trying to take everything in.

"How are my brothers?" Nori blurted, pulling the guard from his thoughts. Dwalin hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not he should humour the other. The thief was nothing but trouble, stealing from whomever he pleased; sneaking, spying, smuggling. He'd never murdered anyone, to Dwalin's knowledge, though one look at the other man's appearance certainly made him wonder. Nori was ragged and cryptic as ever, his hair wild and wispy, his face jagged and severe. His eyes were always narrowed and it was impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking. There were visible scars across his fingers, and the predominant one that traveled through the lids of his right eye, the reason for his blindness perhaps. Dwalin had never thought to ask, though the thief probably wouldn't answer anyway. The other man looked jaded, though he still smirked crookedly and laughed like a wild beast.

It seemed living in the streets, even in a place like Erebor, took its toll. Dwalin could not understand how the man before him was related to the palace scribe or the apothecary for that matter. Putting his rivalry aside for a moment, Dwalin decided to answer.

"Dori's apothecary is successful as always, he's developing many healing draughts fer Óin's stores, as well as other magical artefacts. Him and Bifur have been combining their efforts," the guard began, scratching his brow.

"And...Ori?" Nori's voice sounded quietly, and Dwalin thought he detected a small amount of worry in the other man's expression.

"He's growing fast, still a little bit of a thing, but much taller than when you last saw 'im. He's…shy. Spends most of his time in the library, reading and studying and all tha'. He's smart, tha' one," Dwalin spoke, a soft smile slowly lifting his lips. Thinking about the little scribe nearly made him forget who he was speaking to.

"And you spend much of your time watching him," Nori sneered while Dwalin sputtered as a deep flush rose up his neck.

"I…don't know what yer talking about," the guard grumbled but Nori sneered at him and jumped down to the stone street below. He landed quietly, quieter than anyone had business doing from such a height, and he was directly in front of the other man in a heartbeat. Nori looked up at Dwalin, not a hint of fear in the smaller man's eyes.

"Careful there, I wouldn't want to have to slit your throat," Nori threatened, and the guard knew he was not joking. If there was one thing in the world Nori was serious about, it was his family. He'd go to any measures to ensure the safety of his brothers. Still, Dwalin bristled, as he wasn't one to take well to threats, especially from a man half his size.

"I'd like to see you try," Dwalin replied, standing at his full height while the muscles in his arms tensed. The two stared at each other, fighting a mental battle, until finally Nori grunted and stepped away. Dwalin relaxed as he watched the other man lean against the wall opposite.

"I'm surprised you don't know these things already," Dwalin muttered casually.

"I can't very well go slinking through the palace walls on a daily basis now, can I? Not with you about," Nori said, pointing his dagger at the guard and shaking it.

"Touché," Dwalin spoke with a snort. Nori began to tap the brick behind him with his blade, almost nervously, but his expression remained the same.

"I presume the others are well also," the thief asked coolly.

"Yeh, Fíli's got a new toy, a dancer, from the west," Dwalin uttered, his face frowning as he thought on the little traitor.

"You don't trust him," Nori stated, observing the other man warily.

"No," was spoken in return. Nori smiled then and laughed a bit, sheathing his dagger in his leg holster.

"He's harmless," the thief said and Dwalin raised another eyebrow. It seemed the big oaf was easy to surprise.

"What? I said I couldn't every day. Not never," the redhead explained easily and with a slight shrug. Dwalin growled then crossed his arms. He would have to reprimand each and every one of the guards working under him, it was clear they weren't doing their jobs.

"Oh stop it. I can see your overly small brain working hard even in this terrible light," Nori teased, and Dwalin tightened his hands into fists.

"The guards are weak at the Eastern entrance early morning, add two and you should be fine. And the Western entrance in the evening, I'd say you need three more there," the thief hinted and Dwalin nodded his approval.

"The others?" Nori asked, pushing them back on topic.

"Thorin's the same, sombre and stoic, Bombur still cooks great meals, Bifur is crazy and immersed in his magic, Glóin's obsessing over foreign fabrics, and Bofur-," Dwalin spoke until Nori gagged and sneered at him, holding his hand up to stop him.

"Ugh, don't talk to me about that lecher, slimy little thing," Nori mumbled as he bared his teeth and Dwalin smirked.

"Says the thief," the guard jeered. Nori merely smirked before pulling his mask back up over his nose. He spoke as he turned, lifting a hand to wave casually,

"Say hello for me."

"To Bofur, or your brothers?" Dwalin asked loudly and Nori turned around to glare at him.

"My brothers you dolt," the thief sputtered, turning again to continue down the alley.

"Do some more watching and listening for us and perhaps you can say hello yourself, to all three," Dwalin suggested and he smirked happily when Nori offered no more than a rude gesture in return before slinking into the shadows.

* * *

_It was cold. And arid. He blinked as he took in his surroundings. Last he remembered, he'd been driving a blade into the belly of some child. Who was he…why had he been fighting? His throat was incredibly dry, and he coughed heavily, before pushing the weight atop his body away. Dried limbs crumbled around him, and as he stood unsteadily, bones crushed beneath his feet. He stumbled on the dried ground, trying to gain his bearings and stop the horrid ringing in his ears. A repulsive growl came from his throat as his lips cracked and split around his teeth. His eyes took in his surroundings…nothing but dried blood and decaying bodies. Ruins, dust, and desolation. And as he looked down at his rag covered body, he noticed the ugly gray colour of his skin, and the bold scars running across his arms and legs._

_His eyes roamed the land around him, and he felt nothing as he observed the rotting forms nearby, no anguish for their deaths. It was not until his eyes locked on a distant shape that he remembered. The remains of his once beautiful palace stood not far away, the gold blackened from mud and dirt, and the jewelled walls broken and collapsing across the ground. And he remembered everything, his name, his title, his legacy. Azog charged forward, stomping through the bones and bodies on the ground…his own followers. They were all useless, every last one bested by Thrór's army._

_Thrór! That foolish King had swung an axe into his side. He remembered, clearly, looking up into the other man's eyes as he sliced across his throat. And then everything had faded. Azog screamed across the land, the guttural growl heard by not a soul in such empty space. It was he, that should have lived, he that should have stood in glory at the end of the battle. Thrór's Kingdom and wealth belonged to him! The world, belonged to him!_

_He had nearly conquered every last bit of land in Šebeth, until that fated battle with Thrór's army. Azog cursed the lands, and he cursed the gods that had forsaken him. The Valar had never seen fit to help him achieve his wealth, his power. But Thrór, with his unrelenting faith, that weak, pitiful man, and his desperate followers, the Valar had seen fit to give him everything. They were underserving. As Azog stood atop decaying flesh and screamed for all he was worth, anger filled his veins. The cracks in his skin radiated a disturbing red, and he felt such power at his fingertips!_

_Azog stepped back quickly, as the earth beneath his feet began to separate and pull apart. A hulking form crawled from the earth, elongated shadowy hands clawing at the dirt, pushing decrepit bodies aside. Azog staggered as the red eyed creature rose to its full height before him and towered over his form._

" _Azog," it snarled, its form indistinguishable, and its eyes glowing in a threatening way. Azog stared at it in surprise. He'd never seen such a monstrosity before._

" _You know my name," it hissed and Azog narrowed his eyes. He felt it in his bones, the power of the other creature, and the darkness of its presence._

" _Melkor," Azog muttered, for what else could the powerful creature be, and the shadow pulsed excitedly._

" _I have chosen you, the dušamanûðân," the ancient Vala explained, and Azog bristled at the words. He was not a slave, no servant to another, Vala or not! The pale man braced himself, and called at the newfound strength running through his blood as he charged at the shadowy form. Melkor screeched, stretching obscured limbs out to his side as he whispered ancient words. And Azog fell to the ground in pain. He writhed and scrambled against the soil as the power faded from his grasp, and his eyes widened in terror as his skin began to flake away, his body decaying like those dead around him._

" _Do not take my gifts lightly!" Melkor shouted, wrapping a claw around the man's neck._

" _I can no longer take shape in this world, but some of my power remains. However, it can always be greater, and with it, yours too shall grow, if you do as I command," the god hissed, and Azog choked in his grasp as red eyes bore into his own._

" _Find the key, the amanaišal_ , _" Melkor whispered and Azog nodded frightfully, even as chunks of his skin fell from his body._

" _Find the gift of the Valar," the god demanded, his hold tightening on the man's neck. Azog's vision blurred slightly though he still held on to consciousness, listening faithfully to the commands of the Vala._

" _Then open the doorway to Valimar once more, so that we may have everything. Get me the power of the Valar, and you shall have Erebor, you shall have all of Šebeth. This is your purpose," Melkor finished, throwing Azog's decrepit form away from him into the mass of corpses. The man gasped as he choked on the dry air around him, and then watched in awe as the cracks in his skin once again glowed with the power of Melkor. When he looked upon the looming shadow again, it was with wonder and admiration. It seemed one Vala chose wisely, one Vala chose him._

" _Raise your people, your faithful servants," Melkor commanded, and Azog stood, stretching his hands out towards the mass of bodies. Power emanated from his fingertips and he felt the gift of life within his control. His eyes wandered the once battlefield for those he deemed suitable, the five that had never once disobeyed his commands._

" _Ash," Azog seethed, and bones to his right trembled and joined together, fusing into the shape of a man, a tall man. He was long, lanky, his hair, scraggly, his eyes, wild with the thirst for blood. The bones of another fused alongside him, an extra limb. His teeth, pointed and sharp, fit for eating flesh._

" _Shun," Azog muttered, and a short man, rose from the earth, nearly intact still. He was powerful and fast. His arms and shoulders were broad with strength, his ears sharp as he listened to all around him._

" _Gakh," Was spoken next, and the ground opened to reveal a giant. A hulking form, slow and brutish, but solid as the rocks he'd crawled from within._

" _Jhet,"he hissed across the plains. And bodies tore apart as the crazed one came from beneath them. He laughed, manically, his body hunched as he slunk towards his leader. He was as mad in death as he had been in life._

" _Krak," Azog sneered, the last one rising slowly. It was a child, pale, calm, steady, but deadly. He said not a word, uttered not a sound, and his feet slunk quietly across the broken remains like feathers drifting atop cotton._

 _Azog looked upon his faithful, those that had failed him once, but would not do so again. And Melkor embraced them; surging into each of their bodies, before finding place within the ground once more. With his servants, and the power gifted to him Azog would find this Erebor, and destroy it, driving each and every Durin into the ground where they belonged. And then he would find the amanaišal and open the doorway to the gods, taking the land and wealth that was rightfully his. Azog would not sleep until no other man walked the lands of_ _Šebeth, only then would he have his revenge._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! I'm still struggling away on those final few pages.
> 
> Tulukastâz: Valarin for Tulkas, the Golden-Haired, the Brave One. He is a fighter, physically strong, and laughs in the face of war.  
> Ai!: Sindarin expression of shock  
> Dar: ‘Stop’, in Sindarin  
> Aran: ‘King’, in Sindarin  
> Prestad: ‘Trouble’/‘Is there trouble?’, in Sindarin  
> Mas dorthog?: ‘Where do you live?’, in Sindarin  
> Aphado nin: ‘Come with me’/’Follow me’, in Sindarin  
> Midwakh: A type of pipe of Arabian origin  
> Dhaka: a type of tobacco with high nicotine content, the smoke created from it is intended to be inhaled. Not recommended for use in real life! Really, don’t smoke, it’s bad for you!  
> Khahinh: ‘Wolf-Lady’, in Khuzdul  
> Sanbaghud: ‘Perfect Wind’, in Khuzdul  
> Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu: ‘May Mahal’s hammer shield you/Safe travels’, in Khuzdul  
> Lesten, dag nin: ‘Please, slay me’, in Sindarin  
> Âkminrûk zu: ‘Thank you’, in Khuzdul  
> Aearvír: ‘Sea Jewel’, in Sindarin  
> Zahirah: Shining/luminous, Arabic origin  
> Layan: Gentle and soft, Arabic origin  
> Shawqi: Affectionate, Arabic origin  
> Badra: Full moon, Arabic origin  
> Karida: Untouched, Arabic origin  
> Askadul: ‘Shadow-like’, in Khuzdul  
> Irmo: the Quenya name for Lórien  
> Melkor: Once the mightiest of all Ainur in Tolkien’s literature.  
> Dušamanûðân: Valarin for ‘marred’  
> Amanaišal: ‘unmarred’, in Valarin  
> Ash: One in Black Speech  
> Shun: Two in Black Speech  
> Gakh: Three in Black Speech  
> Jhet: Four in Black Speech  
> Krak: Five in Black Speech


	4. Arômêz

The streets of Erebor were every bit as lively during the day as they were dark and intimidating at night. Kíli nearly skipped over the cobblestone roads, and every so often he would inch off the paths to dig his toes into the dirt and weeds. He looked at everything, even if it was just a broken vase in a corner. Each time they approached a new vendor or shop the dancer paused and looked at the wares out for sale. He greeted every person they came across with a little bow and a hearty 'Shamukh!', the Khuzdul word growing ever more familiar upon his tongue.

The people in turn smiled at him and watched him pleasantly; some even lustily as he slunk through the streets at the Prince's side. Fíli was glad to see him adjusting so well, and taking to the Kingdom and people so quickly. And every time he saw Kíli's toothy grin he had to stop for a moment and catch his breath.

In the city core there was a wide array of items for sale and various people performing. Street musicians played charismatic tunes on every corner, and every time Kíli stopped and danced along with the songs Fíli would tip them generously. He would never tire of watching the other man. Kíli was truly gifted, naturally graceful, a trait that Fíli lacked along with nearly every man or woman that hailed from Erebor. There were exceptions of course, but there was no doubt that Kíli was a rare gem among their people, commanding the attention of all around without even speaking a single word.

His shawl was a beautiful deep red that day, complimenting his bronzed skin perfectly. His eyes were rimmed in dark makeup as always, and the jewels he wore sparkled in the strong sunlight. The panther hung from his navel again, to Fíli's immense pleasure, and it dangled on his belly while his hair did the same at his back. Fíli figured Kíli could probably wear anything, and it would look wonderful on him, nothing even, though that might bring in a bit too much attention. Fíli wanted to keep the sight of the other's naked back to himself for as long as possible.

Needless to say, Fíli was beyond happy, just following his dancer around town, even with Dwalin grumbling and complaining at his side. The three men moved past another exotic fruit stand and Kíli's eyes positively lit up as he looked across the way. A snake charmer sat, his basket open, as he played a sluggish piercing tune on his pungi. And slowly a scaled horned snake arose, twining with the song and moving along with the charmer. Kíli moved to approach but the Prince gripped him worriedly.

"It's alright, it's not the music that charms it. It's the movement, watch," Kíli whispered, pulling away from the other man's grip and moving closer to the charmer. He bent low and knelt a few feet away, moving along with the song and the snake. The charmer glanced at him, but allowed Kíli to get closer, even as the snake turned in the basket to watch the dancer's movements. Slowly Kíli moved his hips back and forth and the snake moved with him, its tongue darting out sporadically. It was hypnotizing, watching him mimic the snake's movements, until the snake was mimicking him instead, and Kíli rose, not a foot away, tempting the reptile to move further from its basket.

Fíli understood where the other man got his name from. He moved like a serpent, acted like one, and in that moment it was almost as though he controlled the snake's every movement. Even Dwalin was hard-pressed not to stare in wonder.

Fíli swallowed as Kíli allowed the reptile to approach close enough that its tongue flickered out to touch his skin. It flittered tantalizingly against the dancer's belly, and onlookers gasped as Kíli eyed it confidently. Then it snapped forward, and he shifted his hips to the side in a quick jerk, grinning as the snake missed him and returned to moving along with him. Several times Kíli avoided the snake's venomous bites, smiling lasciviously as he danced in a sort of daze. The audience in the street was completely captivated and as Fíli observed the serpent's tongue dipping into Kíli's navel, he felt both incredibly aroused and unbelievably jealous.

As Kíli moved away again, the serpent turned its attention back to his master, and the charmer offered him a nod of recognition as he continued his performance. The people clapped and cheered as Kíli returned to the Prince's side, exhilarated from his dance with death.

"You've danced with snakes before," Fíli stated, looking his dancer up and down, his eyes glazed over as they landed on Kíli's full lips.

"Yes, many times. They are a sacred animal where I come from," Kíli explained, then his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and he moved closer until his hands pressed against Fíli's hardened chest.

"Did you know, in the Western Kingdoms, they say death by the bite of a snake will lead to immortality?" Kíli whispered, as he stood up and placed his lips next to the Prince's ear. Fíli groaned as a thin hand dragged up and over his shoulder to tug at the hair behind his neck.

"Oh?" He gasped out, his hands gripping Kíli's hips firmly. The dancer made a noise of confirmation before licking along Fíli's ear and pulling the lobe between his teeth with a gentle tug. Kíli nipped him teasingly, leaving a snake bite of his own, before pulling away and returning to his previous activity of browsing the booths, while Fíli stood blankly in the street. The Prince was pretty sure his mind had flown away into the clouds. Usually Kíli was so quiet, so reserved, but dancing, the act seemed to turn him into an unabashed vixen. It was unreal, completely filthy. And Fíli loved every single moment of it.

Dwalin did his best not to pull apart at the seams. He hated the little tease, hated what he did to the crown Prince. Fíli was a respectable man, and yet he was so easily swayed by the dancer. It was almost as though he was under a spell. The guard understood just how deep Kíli's fangs were in the Prince. All he could do was hope the lad wasn't venomous.

The streets were packed with travellers, merchants, and townsfolk, moving about excitedly, enjoying their days. Children ran between the legs of adults, playing with each other and laughing happily. Kíli could not help but smile along with them. People grazed him constantly, offering the occasional apology, but he felt relatively comfortable in the crowds, even as his toes were stepped on and his hair was tugged. But then he felt something distinctly disturbing. A scaled hand gripped his side, and he flinched as dried flesh scraped across his own. Pale, cracked lips came to mind, and the dancer turned in shock, looking fretfully for the source of the touch. But there was no one there, except the mass of people already bustling by. As the Prince rest a hand at his back Kíli relaxed, reminded that he was safe now, under Fíli's protection, and soon enough, the moment was forgotten.

Kíli stopped to look at the beautiful fabrics strewn about tables, and the artefacts from foreign lands. But he enjoyed the tables selling gems and handcrafted jewellery the most. Many of the merchants possessed incredible talent. They crafted metals into fine shapes and engraved decorative patterns on long chains. Kíli bent to look at a pair of green jewelled earrings when someone knocked into the back of his knees, nearly sending him sprawling over the merchant's wares.

"Oh!" Kíli gasped, turning to spot a little dark haired child clutching at his pants, while two others giggled not far away.

"Frodo! Kari, Lif! What have I told you about running off?" The shop keep stood from his seat and shouted across at the three children. Kíli felt little hands tighten in his coverings but as the vendor beckoned the children back inside his hovel, they released him. Kíli watched as the boys crawled beneath the table and inside, while the jeweller held his hands on his hips and eyed them sternly. When the last curly haired head disappeared he turned towards the dancer with an apologetic smile.

"They get a little rambunctious at that age, I'm so sorry…," he trailed off, waiting for a name.

"Kíli," the dancer answered, bowing slightly.

"I'm Bilbo," the vendor spoke sweetly, before taking his seat again. He was small in stature and gentle eyed. Kíli could tell even after such a brief introduction that the small man was a kind hearted soul.

"You have lots of...," Kíli began, peering behind the other man where he could see several pairs of eyes peeking from the doorway. Bilbo glanced behind him and chuckled.

"Ah, the children…I take them in, they are orphans. I'm afraid even in Erebor accidents happen. But little ones should not be without a home," Bilbo explained, even as many of the children stepped outside curiously. When a boy tugged on the jeweller's tunic Bilbo lifted him into his lap and held him there gently. Kíli's eyes moved down towards the man's wares again, gazing at the beautiful craftsmanship. He particularly enjoyed the items fashioned after animals and creatures, and his fingers grazed a pair of golden snake earrings ordained with green emeralds.

"These are beautiful," Kíli murmured, and Bilbo smiled at him kindly.

"Oh, please take them," Bilbo insisted and he signalled one of the children to grab a little box. But Kíli stood and waved him off.

"I'm sorry, I have no coin," Kíli spoke, backing away, but Bilbo just chuckled.

"That's alright, please, a gift," the other man urged, and Kíli gaped at him.

"I couldn't," He gasped before a strong hand rest at his side, and blonde hair scratched at his neck. The Prince looked over Kíli's shoulder, glancing down at the item in question, and he lifted the earrings to hold them up in the light.

"How much?" The Prince asked and Kíli turned to him with wide eyes. Bilbo took the jewels from the Prince and began to wrap them, bowing his head in respect.

"Ah…truly, he can have them for no cost, my Prince," the small man murmured. Fíli smiled before pulling a tiny pouch from his satchel and placing it on the table.

"Is this enough? Your work deserves payment," Fíli said, and Bilbo gasped as he looked at the contents, placing the boy in his lap back on the ground.

"This is far too much!" He shouted, standing in surprise and trying to hand the gold back. Fíli grinned, and took the box with the earrings, but refused his coin.

"If it makes him happy, it is worth it," Fíli spoke, while Kíli blushed heatedly beside him.

"At least take another item, anything on the table," Bilbo requested and the Prince turned towards his dancer.

"Kíli, which do you like?" he asked, while Kíli's eyes looked over the other wares. There were so many beautiful items to choose from, but his gaze was drawn towards a decorative chain belt, sitting atop the finest dark green satin he'd ever seen. It would match the emeralds in the earrings, and as he touched the silky fabric he felt it was made for him.

"A set, they go together, please, take them both," Bilbo spoke, bending to find a wrap for the items and packing them with care.

"A fine choice," Fíli whispered, handing the box to Kíli while he moved away to accompany Dwalin at the next booth over.

"Thank you," Kíli muttered after him, and he stood stationary as he looked over the gifts in his arms. Kíli was so caught up in the items that he yelped loudly when someone tugged at his hair. But when he looked down it was just into the eyes of a little curly haired girl. She smiled at him and spoke quickly in Khuzdul, tugging all the while at his ponytail. Kíli could not understand many of the words, though he managed to pick up 'zharum' and a long drawn out 'mukhuh' that several other children echoed. Kíli looked up at Bilbo desperately.

"Ah…they speak too fast, I cannot make it out," Kíli stuttered even as Bilbo laughed at the children's antics.

"They like your hair, they want to braid it," the vendor explained, and several moments later Kíli was on the ground as little fingers worked through the long strands, braiding, and tying, even weaving little flowers between the fine hairs. Kíli glanced up at the Prince who smiled fondly at him, before buying an ale from one of the vendors on the street. Fíli stood chatting with the barkeep and Dwalin, and Kíli relaxed as the little ones played with his hair. Several guards accompanied them that day, standing about the city centre as their eyes roamed in every direction. There was no reason he couldn't unwind for a moment.

He liked the sounds of the street, the cheerful chatter, the clanking of glasses, and crunching of paper bags. It was sunny and warm, but a nice breeze blew through the town, moving chimes and decorations that hung along the building walls. Kíli took to observing the people. There were men and woman of all races in the core, probably from the east and west, as well as the south. He heard several different languages spoken, some familiar, and many unknown to his ears. Across from him a man played an intricate rhythm on handcrafted drums and Kíli found his foot tapping to the beat. Families walked together on the cobblestone, and a young man nearby bartered for fresh fruit exuberantly. So many colours littered the roads, bold reds, blues, greens, even pale yellows.

Kíli's eyes landed on the stark white robes of a tall man across from the Prince and his guard. His gaze lingered, he was certain he'd seen similar robes earlier in the day, though so many people walked by him in the busy streets. Normally he might have continued his observations elsewhere, but there was something unusual about the man. His face was hidden, a hood pulled up over his neck and head, and he stood stiffly and straight, his legs secure and feet pointed directly ahead. He faced the Prince, and even after several minutes watching the other man, he did not flinch, and Kíli could not even see the other's shoulders and chest rising with breath. It made him uneasy, and suddenly the pleasant breeze felt unnaturally cool upon his exposed skin.

Kíli felt the children tie off his hair and he thanked them with smiles and little handshakes but his attention remained latched on the white robed man as he began to walk pointedly in Fíli and Dwalin's direction. Kíli rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing at the jagged movements of the man, then they widened as a scaled hand slinked out from beneath a sleeve and unsheathed a blade from beneath his robes. Kíli's breath hitched in his throat, and he could not find his voice to shout, so he ran. His feet charged towards the robed man, even as the other grew closer to the Prince and guard, and then just as the thing moved to thrust its blade into Dwalin's back, Kíli shouted and reached out to push the guard away.

"Look out!" he screamed, his hand gripping the robed figure's arm, and he screeched when it pulled its hand back and sliced at Kíli's forearm on the way, blood flying from the gash.

Kíli shouted, moving to grip the bleeding wound as he staggered against a nearby table, shaking the glassware atop it. Dwalin eyed the interaction with surprise, and Fíli moved quickly between the dancer and their foe. He could see the robed thing's mouth, splitting disgustingly, and it opened its lips to expose yellowing jagged teeth.

"What in the…?" Dwalin stalled for a moment, before pulling his long sword from its sheath and charging at the creature. It took off, running between the people in the streets, and Fíli wasted no time tailing it.

"Stay with Kíli!" Fíli shouted towards a couple of guards standing in shock, and they hurried towards the dancer while Dwalin ran by them in the Prince's wake. The two men rushed down pathways, just barely catching sight of the white robes in the distance, and then when they reached a split, Fíli shouted and pointed at his guard.

"You go left!" He bellowed, before running to the right, his cutlass gleaming in his fist. Dwalin hurried in the opposite direction, cursing the day he was born so large and bulky. His lungs were suffering from all the running, and he vowed to get himself into shape. Dwalin hurried down a long vacant alleyway, heaving and gasping as his legs tired. He paused to catch his breath then hollered when the robed creature jumped on him from above.

"Fucker!" Dwalin shouted, struggling in the thing's grasp and stabbing at it wildly. His blade seemed to have little impact and Dwalin threw the thing from his body into a nearby wall. Its hood fell back, revealing the horrid face hidden beneath, and the guard staggered where he knelt on the stone ground. Was that a third arm? It was disgusting, graying and full of decay. Dwalin thought he might have seen maggots crawling from between its gaping nostrils, and it sneered at him, opening its jaw wide as it threw itself towards him. Dwalin barely had time to react as the creature's fangs punctured his arm, piercing deep into his skin.

"Graaaagh!" Dwalin hollered, ripping his arm from the other's grasp, and he gaped as he watched the thing chew on the chunk of skin while blood dripped down its face. Then Fíli appeared, and swung his cutlass through its neck, nearly severing the head. Instead of screeching in pain, the thing merely smiled as its eyes faded and its body crumbled to the ground in a pile of dust. The two men stood in the alley facing each other, eyes full of shock as they watched the remains blow away with the wind.

"What in the blazes was that?" Fíli gasped out, looking towards the other man. Dwalin clutched his arm, blood seeping between his thick fingers.

"It bit me! Tore a bloody chunk right off my arm!" The guard sputtered in surprise and Fíli eyed his wound before moving to wrap it best he could.

"Lucky it didn't drive its blade right through your spine then," the Prince voiced, and Dwalin nodded in agreement.

"Aye," he whispered, watching as blood already began to seep through the wrappings. He was lucky, lucky the dancer had seen the attack coming, lucky he'd been pushed out of the way. Dwalin looked back the way he came, and shared a look with Fíli before the two ran back towards the city core.

Kíli sat in a wooden chair as Bilbo tended to his wound, the palace guards standing around him protectively. His arm throbbed and his vision was a little blurred, but he refused to pass out from such a small injury. The blade had not cut deep, catching only the surface of his forearm, but the shock of it all had him feeling a bit faint, he was even finding it a tad difficult to breathe. Fíli ran to him, raising his head to look in his eyes in the midst of the worried onlookers.

"I'm alright, it's a small wound," Kíli insisted, but as he moved to stand, his head throbbed violently with dizziness, and he collapsed in Fíli's arms.

"Kíli!" the Prince shouted, cradling the dancer on the ground as his skin paled and began to sweat. Kíli shook in Fíli's arms as his heart rate grew erratic and his body convulsed.

"It was poisoned," Dwalin uttered, sniffing at the wound and looking towards the Prince with worried eyes. Fíli lifted the dancer quickly, and they made their way back to the palace as fast as possible.

 

* * *

"We have no antidote, so there's no choice but to let it run its course and hope he can fight it off," Oín spoke as he dabbed at the wound with a salve. The healer had worked the night away, struggling to keep Kíli stabilized without knowing exactly what they were up against. The poison had been fast acting, targeting Kíli's organs and shutting down his respiratory system. But Oín had kept him alive, barely. The healer was obviously frustrated. He hated the unknown, and the poison used was unfamiliar to him, he wondered if it was even poison at all. The effects reminded him more of a snake bite, though much faster acting than any of the reptiles in the surrounding area. The blade must have been thoroughly coated.

"It's a small wound at least…though highly concentrated, not much poison entered his bloodstream. If he can get through the next day, I'm sure he'll be fine," Oín muttered, as he took a blood sample from the dancer and sealed it in a vial.

"Take this to Dori, maybe he can find the source," the healer spoke, handing the vial off to Ori, who sat with his fingers twined nervously together. The scribe scurried off in a hurry while Oín wiped his hands and walked away to take a break. The room was filled with awkward silence, all eyes on the dancer's unconscious form. Fíli sat with his hands clasped in front of his face, a worried frown upon his face, while his mother stood at his back. Dís rubbed her eldest son's shoulders, trying to relax him just a little, but there was little she could do. Even Dwalin stood pensively in the corner, his own wound stitched up and patched, for once not glaring at the dancer.

The King stood off to the side, observing with cold eyes. Twice now he'd allowed such attacks to happen upon his own family, three times if he counted the day Kíli was stolen from them so many years ago. How could he possibly protect his people if he could not even protect his nephews within his Kingdom's walls, his palace walls? And this time Dwalin was hurt as well. How long before families were killed at the hands of their enemy? How long before his Kingdom suffered the same fate as Thranduil's? There was only so much the gods could do with such dark magic knocking at their doors.

"He's in good hands Fíli, you need not worry," Dís whispered tiredly, before leaving her sons alone with Thorin. Fíli rubbed at his eyes anxiously then dragged his chair closer to Kíli's bed. He'd never seen someone look quite so sickly before. Even with his generous tan, the dancer looked pale and ghostlike on the sickbed. Flowers still clung within the strands of his hair from the children, but the beautiful petals did nothing to make the other man appear more alive. Fíli bent forwards and lent his head on the cool sheets over Kíli with a deep sigh. The creature in the alley was frightful. The way it moved, smiled, was so unnatural, and Fíli recalled suddenly that when he sliced through its skin, the thing had not bled. It had looked almost…undead.

The Prince was incredibly exhausted. He pulled his crown from atop his head and closed his eyes tightly, trying desperately to unwind. His fingers rubbed across the Arkenstone methodically, silently asking the Valar to help Kíli if it was within their power. Finally his exhaustion claimed him, and he succumbed to sleep, even bent in such an awkward position.

Thorin approached quietly, lifting the crown from his nephew's limp hand and holding it gently between his fingers. He looked upon the stone that had protected them so well for nearly three centuries. He knew his sister thought him cold, uncaring, interested only in guarding the stone, it was his duty after all. He'd even heard his people call him frigid, beneath the hot desert sun. Thorin had long since locked away his feelings for the good of his Kingdom. No matter how peaceful a time they lived in, without a strong ruler, decisive and stern, a Kingdom would eventually crumble. Despite these things, Thorin still cared. Feelings could only be masked, not forgotten. And as he looked upon his nephew…both his nephews, he desperately hoped for their happiness. He did not wish his life upon Fíli, and hoped the dancer…Kíli would help keep him grounded and kind-hearted.

Thorin placed the crown on the bed beside Fíli's elbow before he approached and ran his fingers through the Prince's golden hair. No matter what his sister might say about his cold heart, Thorin could not help but feel pain seeing his family upset like this. And Kíli…his beloved lost nephew. The King brushed Kíli's bangs away from his clammy brow. Looking at him now, Thorin couldn't understand how he had ever doubted that Kíli was truly the missing Prince. Despite his differences, the bone structure in the dancer's face was so much like his sister's. Even his eyebrows were set at the same dramatic angle. And the closer he looked the more he saw traces of Dís's late husband, in Kíli's nose, and his ears, his jaw and skin tone. There was no doubt in the King's mind that Kíli was his youngest nephew. He found himself smiling at the thought. Durins were strong in both body and mind; he had faith that the young man would pull through.

 

* * *

Thick smoke filled the closed off room deep inside the palace walls as concoctions bubbled in flasks around the many shelves. Dori worked intently over his table studying the proffered blood sample with keen eyes, while Dwalin, Ori, and Bofur waited for the results. He'd managed to isolate the poisonous cells, and even identified it as a type of venom. Now it was just a matter of matching it to one of the many samples in his workshop.

"Well?" Dwalin pressed, hovering over the back of the apothecary's chair. Dori bristled in his seat and shooed the hulking man away.

"Hold your horses, you can't rush research," the apothecary seethed, switching out one of the samples and looking through a series of magnifying glasses attached to his head.

"Ori, bring me the tall vial on the shelf over there, the clear one, on the bottom shelf," Dori ordered his little brother while he vaguely pointed behind him, and the scribe hurried to grab it. Ori rushed by Dwalin, and nearly tripped over Bofur's stretched out legs, the vial clinking between his fingers while the guard watched his every movement. Dori grabbed the vial, pouring just a tiny drop onto a small plate of glass and pulling it next to the venom sample from Kíli's blood. Ori watched his brother work, bouncing up and down eagerly on his toes, while Dwalin watched the scribe. The apothecary made some curious noises, humming and hawing as he looked between the two samples on his desk. He pulled away slightly, moving the extravagant glasses away from his eyes. His gaze flickered to the right, to a tiny mirror on his desk, and he reached towards it and angled it behind him, his eyes narrowing dramatically.

"Get your dirty eyes off my brother," Dori fumed, and Dwalin stiffened with embarrassment and stood up straight. Bofur chuckled at the guard while Ori looked at the ground bashfully, his fingers clasped together in front of him. Dori tore off his glasses and pulled down his sleeves before standing to move towards his bookcase.

"…Did you find out what it was?" Ori asked quietly as his brother pulled a tome from the shelf.

"Hm? Oh, yes. It's a snake venom, the Amrad 'Azug, incredibly deadly," the apothecary said casually, flipping through the worn pages in a hurry. Bofur sat up quickly, his eyes wide.

"What is it? You know the snake? Where's it from?" Dwalin asked the tamer. Bofur nodded slowly, though he still looked very troubled.

"They're extinct…died along with the last war. I've only ever seen their remains in the ruins of the North. Are you sure Dori?" Bofur asked softly.

"Of course I am! Now leave me be, I've got work to do," Dori shooed them all from his lab, and they stood awkwardly just outside the doorway. Dwalin heaved a long sigh while Bofur studied his feet with great intensity.

"The North you said," Dwalin uttered, cracking his knuckles and eyeing the scribe as he strolled away down the hall.

"We should probably look into it, do some snooping. Maybe it will lead us to our enemy," Bofur suggested. Dwalin nodded, moving to walk away.

"I know who to ask."

 

* * *

Several days later Dwalin returned to the healing wing late one evening to find Kíli sitting up on the bed chatting animatedly with the Prince. The dark haired man looked healthy as always, his skin glowing again and his smile radiant, and in turn, the Prince looked equally overjoyed. Kíli's eyes flickered up towards Dwalin and the dancer smiled at him before looking towards his wrapped arm worriedly. The guard approached and did the same with the exposed wound on Kíli's arm. He could see the stitches clearly, and the area surrounding the cut that was still inflamed and bruised in a variety of colours. But it seemed the poison had worked its way through Kíli's body and he had recovered well.

"Master Kíli, I am in your debt," Dwalin said respectfully, bowing his head towards the dancer. Kíli grinned and looked towards the Prince excitedly before facing the guard with a happy expression.

"You're welcome, Mister Dwalin," he spoke before moving to comb out his hair. Dwalin pulled the Prince aside and explained everything the apothecary had discovered, now that the blonde man was no longer preoccupied with his worries. Fíli took the information in calmly and the other man left to check the guards posted around the palace.

Fíli's shoulders tensed as he stood stiffly inside the healing wing. There was most certainly an enemy upon them if it was no longer safe to wander the streets within Erebor. They had been careless he supposed, too caught up in their chatting. Slender arms wrapped around him from behind and Fíli turned in the dancer's grip to look into the other man's dark brown eyes. Without Kíli, he could very well be dead, and Dwalin most certainly would have lost his life.

"Do you feel well enough for a walk in the palace gardens? It should be safe there at least, several guards stand at each entrance, as well as throughout," Fíli asked, and the dancer nodded elatedly.

"I would like that very much," Kíli whispered, and the two made their way through the palace halls. The gardens were every bit as beautiful at night as they were during the day. Tiny lanterns lit the pathways while the moonlight added its own glow as well. The skies were clear, allowing thousands of stars to shine down upon them, mimicking the shapes of many of the flowers. Kíli could see some of the streets in the distance, how they lit up in the early evening with tiny warm fires and tavern lights. Fíli pulled the dancer to his chest and pointed up at the sky above them.

"Do you know any of the constellations Kíli?" the Prince asked and the other man merely shook his head. Fíli began at the west, dragging his finger along the sky and naming each he could remember.

"That long one there, with the four bright stars across it, is called, iniðil, the lily of the skies. Just above us is Næchærra, the horse ridden by the great Vala Arômêz," Fíli explained.

"It's so bright!" Kíli gasped, his eyes looking around the sky for more.

"What of those stars, clustered together just above the horizon?" Kíli asked, pointing his finger to the North.

"Those are Delgûmâ and Naškad, the great dome of the heavens, and the ring of power," Fíli murmured into his dancer's ear. The two looked across the skies until Kíli pulled from the other man's grasp and began a simple dance beneath the light of the moon.

"I wish I could watch them always," he muttered, looking up at the sky and raising his hands to the stars as his hips shook delicately. And then he began to sing, softly, and in Sindarin, while Fíli watched.

"Or 'waith bain nura Anor,  
A panlû elin cuinar,  
Ú-pedithon 'i-aur gwann,'  
Egor nai îl 'namarië',"

Kíli's sultry voice sounded throughout the gardens, and the tiny chains upon his belts created a rhythm for the words. The dancer looked at the stars reverently before lowering his arms to his sides.

"What does it mean?" Fíli queried, captivated as always by the other man, and Kíli walked teasingly towards him.

"It speaks of the stars and sun, always above, always there. Even while the sun shines in the skies the stars lie above, and while the stars glitter, the sun exists as well. Always they shall give us light in great darkness," Kíli explained, each step long and drawn out until the two men stood so close their breaths mingled between them. Kíli dragged his fingers up and down the Prince's arms, their lips nearly touching.

"I'm not in danger again am I?" Fíli whispered, and Kíli recoiled with a stricken face. Fíli reached out to grip his arm, regretting the words immediately.

"I'm sorry, it was but a joke, I know…you wouldn't," the Prince insisted, and he gripped the other man's chin and tilted it up. Kíli's eyes were filled with unshed tears and his expression was guilt ridden.

"Kíli, truly, I did not mean it," Fíli murmured, rubbing his thumb across the dancer's lower lip. He never should have mentioned it, even in jest. Kíli blinked a few times before gripping Fíli's hand in his own, running his fingers over the rough scarring there.

"Goheno nin." he spoke softly, raising Fíli's palm to his lips to press his lips against the blemish. Fíli's fingers tingled at the touch, and a shiver ran up the length of his arm as Kíli's eyes locked on his and he kissed each finger gently.

"Guren min gaim lín," Kíli whispered, biting his lip and pulling away. Fíli stared at his hand then looked towards the other man. He raised a finger to brush away a strand of hair, and then ran it down the side of Kíli's face.

"…What did that mean?" The Prince questioned, his voice surprisingly eager.

"It's…nothing," Kíli said, turning away as a flush rose up his neck.

"Somehow, I don't quite believe you. Your words…they sound familiar to one of the ancient languages," Fíli intoned, eyeing Kíli heatedly.

"Valarin?" Kíli whispered in question. He knew he'd heard of it before, perhaps while studying with Ori, or perhaps even long before. The language of the gods. Fíli smiled but shook his head.

"No, your words sound similar to Quenya, not quite as old as Valarin. Say it again, please," Fíli requested.

"Guren min gaim lín," Kíli looked over his shoulder with lowered eyes, beckoning the other man closer with a hidden gaze.

"I like the way these words sound on your tongue," Fíli admitted, moving to stand right behind the other man. He traced Kíli's spine with his fingers, then rest them upon the scar mark. Fíli suddenly felt immense responsibility settle atop his shoulders. He knew one day, he would be King of Erebor, hopefully not for many years, but eventually the time would come. He could only imagine what it must feel like to know you've failed to protect those under your protection. He felt miserable at the sight of the scar on his dancer, as well as the healing wound upon his arm. How would he ever survive when his people came to harm. Or perhaps it was just his love for the man before him that filled his heart with such pain.

Fíli kissed along Kíli's neck, and then turned his body so he could reach the other man's lips. His fingers lingered at the back of Kíli's neck as he pressed their lips together chastely.

"Tell me what your words mean," the Prince sighed against the other's moist lips, and Kíli raised them in a sadistic grin.

"No," Kíli spoke impishly, and he pulled away from Fíli's grip and ran away to hide behind a thin tree. Fíli eyed him fervently. He could play this game. The Prince stood stationary for a moment, grinning back just as wickedly and then he began stalking after the other man. Kíli let out a giggle and ran between the plants and flowers of the garden, skipping across the stone pathway, and peeking out from behind ornate pillars. The two men laughed at each other, and continued their chase under the stars. Kíli even went so far as to use an unsuspecting guard for cover, but it did not stop Fíli from his pursuit. Finally he cornered the other, walking him back towards one of the fountains in the garden. Kíli let him approach, smiling innocently, but as Fíli reached out he was pulled to the side and pushed over.

"Woah!" Fíli gasped out, as he slipped over the ornate stone and fell backwards into the fountain's water. He sputtered as water ran between into his mouth and soaked him to the bone, then looked up at the other man, aghast. Kíli was covering his mouth, obviously trying to hide his laughter, and Fíli could see a guard in the distance doing the same. He frowned and narrowed his eyes at the dancer with admonishment.

"S-sorry," Kíli stuttered, before reaching out a hand to help the other man out of the fountain. Fíli smiled in appreciation, but as his fingers clasped around Kíli's wrist he tugged aggressively and the dancer toppled over the ridge with a shout. Fíli tackled him in the water, drenching him thoroughly and Kíli struggled and laughed in his grasp, even as the Prince hovered over his body.

"Will you tell me? I caught you fair and square," Fíli claimed, and Kíli snickered but looked away nervously. Water sprayed over their bodies from the decorative carvings of the fountain, and it was cool to the touch on his heated skin.

"My heart...is in your hands, Fíli," Kíli admitted coyly, while the Prince's eyes blazed. Fíli grinned stupidly; sure his heart was swelling in his chest. He breathed in and out heavily for a moment before attacking Kíli's lips with vigour. The two men kissed in the shallow water unabashedly, legs and arms entangled around each other as their bodies rubbed together. Kíli moaned as Fíli pushed his tongue deep in his mouth, running across the sensitive skin within. And the Prince groaned as he pulled at Kíli's drenched hair, his clothes plastered to his body. The two men kissed like that for what felt like ages and seconds at once, with only the flowers and night sky to watch over them. And perhaps the wandering eyes of a guard or two.

 

* * *

"What on earth happened, you're both soaked to the bone!" Dís shouted, hands on her hips as she glared at her sons. Dwalin hovered awkwardly behind her, looking as though he'd been severely reprimanded. The two boys stood hand in hand, Kíli with a brilliant red flush upon his skin, Fíli awkwardly trying to look anywhere but at his mother.

"I've been worried sick, thought you went out in the town. There was another attack in the village, another jeweller," Dís hurried to explain as she rushed to their sides and touched each of their faces.

"Which one?" Fíli asked, his face settling into a frown.

"Bofur said his name was Bilbo Baggins, he works in the core," Dwalin spoke up from behind, and Kíli gasped loudly before tugging on Fíli's sleeve.

"We have to go! The children!" The dancer begged, trying to pull Fíli in the right direction.

"He should stay, it's not safe," Dwalin advised, approaching the two men, while Dís went about towelling them off.

"He is safer with us, do not forget he was attacked once within these very walls already," Fíli said and Kíli smiled at him, though the worry was visible in his eyes. The three mounted horses and rode quickly to the city core with a few more guards. When they arrived Thorin was already there, speaking with Bofur while the guards ushered everyone else to safety and Bifur worked to extinguish the flames.

Bilbo's store and home were in ruins, and the small man stood off to the side, wrapped up in a blanket, while children huddled around him. The King greeted his nephews before the group walked towards him. Kíli rushed to hug the other man before checking on the children.

"Are you alright? This is your shop?" Thorin asked sullenly, his eyes roaming the other man's form. He stared perhaps a moment too long, studying the soft features, and Fíli looked between them curiously.

"I'm fine, my King," Bilbo spoke softly, bowing his head in respect.

"Your shop, your wares," Thorin uttered, gesturing to the wreckage but the small man merely shook his head with a tired smile.

"The children are safe, that's what matters," Bilbo spoke as a boy asked to be lifted into his arms. There were so many little ones, crying at the loss of their home and from the stress. A little girl tugged at Thorin's cloak and the King reached down to pat her head gently. Bilbo looked about, at the shivering boys and girls and then to the child tugging on Thorin's cloak.

"Though I do not know where we will go now," he voiced worriedly, glancing regretfully at the charred remains of his home. The entire section was blackened, wood destroyed, stone charred. It reminded him painfully of his past, and Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and fought off the agonizing memories.

"You can stay in the palace, we have room to spare," Thorin offered, turning to his head guard.

"Dwalin, help gather the children, we should get them into bed," he commanded all while Bilbo watched him openly.

"And you as well…," Thorin trailed off as he looked at the small man.

"Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins," he uttered, handing the boy he held to Kíli as the dancer walked by.

"I'm sure you've had a tiring night, ride with me back to the palace," Thorin requested and he beckoned Bilbo to follow him so he could lift the other man onto his horse. Thorin mounted gruffly behind him, then they began the trek towards the palace, children huddled onto small carriages around them with the palace guards. Bilbo looked over them all, counting heads and ensuring each child was still unharmed.

"Do not worry, my men will ensure the safety of all your children," Thorin spoke sincerely, urging the other to relax against his body. Bilbo sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back gently.

"I never thought I would meet the King, you are very kind," Bilbo spoke earnestly and Thorin looked down at his curly head in surprise. He could not remember a single person ever calling him kind before.

"It is nothing," Thorin uttered while his eyes ran across the other man's features. Bilbo swayed in his arms with the rhythmic walking of his horse, slumbering away. He'd never seen a man quite so small before, and fully grown too, some of the softest skin he'd ever seen, not destroyed yet by long days working under a harsh sun. Bilbo's hands however were covered in calluses, and his face was drawn and tired, with creases about his eyes and brow, throwing away the illusion of innocence. And one look at the many children they had rescued from the wreckage told Thorin all he needed to know. Bilbo was a man who dedicated his life to tending to the wellbeing of others before his own, he was the kind one.

Thorin felt an unfamiliar feeling in his gut, and his heart throbbed painfully in his chest. His sister's voice whispered in his mind and he knew what it was in a moment. He'd been struck, out of nowhere, by an emotion he thought he would never feel. His eyes were constantly drawn to the other man, incapable of veering away. He found the ride far too short, even at such an undesirable hour. And as he woke the jeweller and had a guard direct him to a room, Thorin wished that he had escorted Bilbo himself, for no other reason than an extra moment spent at his side.

 

* * *

The palace was livelier than ever, with all of their new guests scampering down the halls and hiding in dark corners. Dwalin increased the security at each post in a desperate attempt to ensure no child managed to run off and get lost. Occasionally kids slipped into the court or meeting rooms, and while the guards would stiffen in fear Thorin merely smiled gently and patted the little ones on the head. Many of the members of the court found themselves in awkward predicaments, and it was particularly enjoyable watching Dwalin hulk around with little boys and girls hanging from his limbs. Bombur eagerly cooked brilliant meals to feed their hungry bellies, and on more than one occasion he was discovered bouncing a child or two upon his knee. Just a few days and the children seemed right at home.

Kíli had discovered a new way to spend his time, chasing and playing hide and seek like he was just a boy himself. Of course he wasn't so little anymore and eventually he tired and needed a break. On one such occasion the dancer snuck away and walked to the library quickly. There was something that had been nagging at him for several days, and he figured if anyone would know it would be Ori. And if that failed there were always the books.

He pushed through the heavy doors, nodding at the guards standing outside, and then peered around the library. There was a mild-mannered child sitting at a table reading, hidden under a hood, and a short man in a white robe climbing a ladder on the far end, but no sign of the little scribe. Kíli frowned and began walking up and down the many aisles looking for books that might help him. He ran his fingers across the spines, reading the symbols and words to the best of his ability. Then he moved around a corner and gasped in surprise.

Dwalin had the scribe pushed up against a bookshelf as he groped him and shoved his tongue down the other man's throat. The two men were grinding against each other and the guard's hands began sneaking beneath Ori's heavy robes. The smaller man moaned in pleasure but his eyes widened as he spotted Kíli standing frozen behind the guard. Ori's little fingers pushed the other man off him and he covered his face in embarrassment while Dwalin looked between them worriedly. The three men stood in silence and Kíli slowly lifted his lips in a teasing smile.

"Um, pardon…my intrusion," Kíli muttered, beginning to giggle lightly. Dwalin rubbed the back of his head nervously and Ori looked as though he was trying to bore a hole in the floor with his eyes.

"Ah…, I should be going, work to do, yeh see," Dwalin explained, coughing occasionally and shuffling his feet on the thick carpet. The guard flicked his eyes towards the scribe several times before he moved to walk past Kíli.

"Master Kíli," he spoke with a lowered head and the dancer smirked deviously then looked back towards his friend.

"Ah, Kíli…Kíli I…," Ori stumbled over his words, bouncing uncertainly on the balls of his feet. The dancer laughed internally, enjoying the hilarity of it all, and then finally decided to ease the other man's worries.

"It's alright Ori, I won't tell anyone," Kíli spoke quickly.

"I'm just here to research Valarin a bit, you can continue…working away," he implied, with a sly wink. Ori's face flushed red as a ruby, and he turned to face the book shelf.

"Valarin is over on the far right, beside the other language books!" the scribe blurted, pointing a shaking hand in the proper direction. Kíli snickered and began to walk past.

"Thanks!" He spoke cheerfully, practically skipping towards the proper aisle. There were hundreds of books on the languages, but very few on ancient Valarin, and only one with translations from Khuzdul. It would be a struggle for him, but he pulled the book from the shelf, along with a tome on Khuzdul symbols. Kíli sat and flipped through some of the pages, before pulling his ankle up on the chair. He looked around cautiously, noticing there were still only two others in the library, and he supposed Ori was hidden somewhere as well. Kíli pulled the bangles on his ankle up, shifting the hanging jewels around until he found what he was looking for.

The pendant still sat carefully wrapped around his ankle, hidden from prying eyes, and he unlatched it and placed it on the table in front of him. It was the one thing Kíli always thought of as his. He'd had it for as long as he could remember, though he did not recall where it came from. And the words and symbols upon it were a mystery, but now, with access to so many books on languages; it was time to look it up.

He started with the circular words that wrapped around the design on the front. He had a hunch they were Valarin, the language Fíli had spoken of, and sure enough, as he flipped through the pages he found similar words. It took him several hours but he managed to identify some of the words. The top line listed the five ancient gods they worshipped in Erebor. Kíli scribbled the names down on a scrap. The bottom line proved more difficult. It took him another full hour to realise the words were actually another language entirely, ancient Quenya, the language Fíli had mentioned in the gardens. Kíli hurried to grab another book off the shelves and soon enough he had the second line decoded as well.

"Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar! Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar," Kíli whispered, sounding the words out. The phrase was unfamiliar to him, even the translation. His eyes flickered to the words in the centre and he smiled. He already knew the symbols were Khuzdul, after studying with Ori, but wasn't entirely sure which letters they were. He'd kept them for last, knowing it would not be hard to figure out. His fingers dragged down the pages of the tome in front of him, and he scribbled down the translation. After the third letter his eyes narrowed a bit, as the fourth was the same as the second. Then he gaped at his paper in surprise.

_Kíli_

He sat frozen, unsure what to think of such a discovery. Did that mean…did that mean he was…? Kíli flipped the pendant over quickly thumbing across the insignia on the back. He'd seen that as well. Kíli shuffled the books on the table, flipping quickly to the inner cover of each one, his paper flying off the table in his rush. There, on each page was the same symbol.

It was the royal seal of Erebor.

Kíli pulled away with shaky hands, the pendant gripped tightly between his sweaty fingers. No. That was impossible. He couldn't possibly be…the missing Prince. Kíli's breath came in in quick gasps as he began to hyperventilate. Fíli was his brother! Thorin…his uncle! Dís his mother! Fíli was his _brother_! A figure moved close behind him and Kíli flinched and slammed the books shut nervously, hiding the pendant swiftly in his belts. He waited as the boy from earlier put a book back on the shelf, then exited quickly, nearly running from the room. He was in such a hurry he forgot about his scribblings and left the books sitting scattered atop the table.

The boy watched him leave calmly, and then moved to lift the books in his arms, placing each one back on the shelf with precision. Then he returned to Kíli's seat, and bent to pick up the paper from the ground. Grey cracking fingers crunched the parchment tightly and then it disappeared into a wisp of smoke within the decaying hand.

 

* * *

Bilbo was very unused to living in such luxury. Even in the streets of Erebor he had not completely adjusted to life in the prosperous Kingdom. He lived sparsely, only buying expensive items to craft into the jewellery he sold at his shop. He raised the children well, but did not spoil them, giving only what they needed and teaching them to share. He was kind of course, and made them toys and purchased the occasional treat, but nothing in excess. In the palace the little brats were spoiled rotten, and so was he.

But admittedly it was a joy to see them so carefree and happy. It was also exhausting. He found himself wandering the halls constantly, looking for all the little bouncing heads of hair, making sure he saw each child at least twice every day. They sure had a knack for hiding. Sometimes in the halls he felt a strange feeling in his gut, as though he was being watched. And he could have sworn he'd seen a child on occasion he did not recognize. A haunted boy, with calculating eyes, but there was not a single child under his care he would not know immediately. He dismissed his worries, after all, there were others living in the palace, perhaps they had children that roamed the hallways as well.

And then of course there were the few times he saw the King. Thorin held a natural majesty in his demeanour. He stood tall, and had incredible presence even while doing simple things like eating or riding a horse. He could understand why the people sometimes thought him cold. But there were those few moments, Bilbo saw him playing with a child, with gentle eyes and the tiniest of smiles that proved otherwise. And each time they passed each other in the halls the tall man made sure to stop and offer a stiff bow in his direction. Even as Bilbo walked by the other man he could feel the King's gaze lingering on his form. There was something about Thorin that Bilbo found compelling. And sometimes he stared a bit too long himself.

Bilbo worked away on a delicate necklace, engraving a difficult pattern across the links. It was the details that made all the difference, things his small hands excelled at. He had been gifted a little workshop in which to craft fine jewels for the court not long after settling in, and was grateful for it. For once all of the children were being looked after by various members of the palace staff, giving him a little time to both relax and get some things done. He snickered at the thought of the waiting ladies chasing exuberant children throughout the passageways, skirts swaying about frantically as they called out their names. Bilbo pulled away from his task at a knock on his door and he looked over as the Prince entered his workshop.

"My Prince, what can I do for you?" Bilbo asked, wiping his hands on a wet cloth before setting the necklace aside. Fíli approached calmly, leaning against the table with a serious expression.

'I have a favour to ask of you," the Prince began, and he reached up to remove the crown from atop his head. Fíli looked at it in his hands for a moment, thumbing over the blue jewel set in the front of it before he placed it on Bilbo's table.

"Can you make a replica of this jewel?" Fíli asked and Bilbo lifted the crown into his own fingers to peer closely. It was an unusual looking gem. A purer blue than even the great seas, and at a closer glance it sparkled with a multitude of colours in its core.

"I can try, though it won't be exactly the same. I've never seen a gem that shines quite like this before," Bilbo admitted, trying to think of what might look close when polished and shaped.

"As long as it's passable at a glance," Fíli spoke, leaving the other man to his work.

 

* * *

Deep in the palace, the apothecary was hard at work as always. He bent over his worktable intently staring unblinkingly at an infected blood sample before his eyes. He dropped two clear beads of liquid onto the glass plate and observed as the infection slowly disappeared. It was nearly gone, and Dori clenched his fingers in his robes in excitement as he watched. But then the infection gurgled and fought back, overpowering and taking over the sample. Dori slammed his fist on the table and tore off his magnifiers.

"Drat, so close," he shouted in the tiny room, then began cleaning off the plate to begin again.

"The next one for sure!" he muttered, mixing together different chemicals and herbs into vials and setting them up to bubble. He sat back to wait when a flash from atop one of his bookshelves caught his attention. Dori turned towards the artefact quickly, and then pushed himself fiercely away from the table. Glass shattered on the floor as the table knocked violently against the wall and his chair flew back onto the floor. He ran, climbing his bookcase and bumping items from the shelves while he reached hastily for the object at the top.

A quick glance into the glowing orb confirmed his suspicions and he soared out of his workroom leaving the door flung open in his wake while the guards nearly fell over at their posts. An explosion followed behind him, some chemicals or another mixing together on the ground, but he ignored it and hurried along anyway. The guards could deal with the mess for now.

Bifur's quarters were just around the next corner and he pushed a few people out of his way as he ran towards them. The doors were unlocked, and he pulled them open quickly holding up the item in his hand while he gasped for air. Bofur lay sprawled against a padded divan playing a little tune on his clarinet but he stopped at Dori's sudden appearance. His cousin remained seated in a circle of magic, hieroglyphs scrawled on the floor around him. Bifur flipped leisurely through a large tome, while Dori panted and gripped the glowing orb desperately behind him.

"Bifur, Bifur! My brother! He's in trouble!" Dori finally gasped out, moving towards the other man but the warlock turned suddenly and held up a hand to stop him. Bifur murmured unknown words beneath his breath as he methodically wiped away the ring around him and Bofur sat up in his seat.

"Ori?" the tamer asked curiously, wondering how on earth the scribe had managed to find trouble within the library walls, unless Dwalin had finally made a move.

"No! Nori! Look!" At that Bofur looked sharply towards the other resident apothecary. Dori rushed towards him showing the tamer the glowing orb and Bofur grasped it from his hands. He could see Nori's image in the sphere, running desperately from an invisible enemy, his red hair flapping about behind him.

"What on earth has he got himself into now?" Bofur whispered as Bifur approached silently to look from his side, the open book still in his arms.

"Can you send me in?" Bofur asked his cousin. The warlock raised an eyebrow then snapped his book closed with a grunt.

 

* * *

He hated the North. Everyone in their right mind hated the North. Nothing but rubble and rotten memories. But Dwalin had asked, and thrown in a deceitful 'for the safety of your brothers', leaving him little choice. Nori trudged through thick sand, long cold from years without sunlight, looking for something, anything really that might lead him in the right direction. So far the only thing of interest had been large groups of dead animals, which to his knowledge shouldn't have been dead. But anyone or anything that wanted to live happily avoided the North like a plague.

He shivered beneath his worn cloak, and scraped his feet over an unusual rock curiously. This was among the stupidest things he'd ever done, and he'd done a lot of really stupid things in his lifetime. He'd had a few close run ins with death already, and to be honest, he was starting to dislike them more as time went by. Nori kicked a rock away with his foot in anger. Curse that idiotic guard. If he wanted to snoop he should have done it himself. Mind you the lumbering oaf couldn't sneak to save his life. He watched the rock sail across the sand before landing with a thump not too far away. Then his eyes widened when the ground exploded and he was flung backwards into the rocky land.

Nori scampered on the ground, gripping his torn cloak to his body as he coughed sand from his mouth. What on earth? A trap? He wiped his face and crawled backwards cautiously then flattened his body when two forms appeared in the sand to his left. Shit, shit, shit. He'd set off a trap and now they knew someone or something was around. He knew why Dwalin was having him search up here, and he knew if he was spotted, he was as good as dead.

Nori peered out from under his cloak, watching as the forms walked towards the smoke. Then he nearly gasped as he realized they didn't have feet. The robes were floating an inch or two above the ground, and beneath, there was nothing but a smoky form. He swallowed nervously, and did his best to stay absolutely still, watching as the two….ghosts glided across the surrounding area then met up again. Then a ghostlike hand reached out and pushed in a notch on a boulder, before the forms dropped into an underground tunnel.

And Nori slumped against the sand. He waited a few extra minutes just to be sure it was safe before crawling towards the big rock. Now that he was focused he noticed several other signs of traps. There were foreign markings etched into rubble all over the place. It was practically a minefield. He stood up as he reached the rock and dusted it off before tracing the symbol with his thumb. Nori yelped as the ground beneath him cracked and crumbled and he fell back as a hole appeared, sand falling down inside. The thief stood and peered over the side hesitantly.

"Why am I doing this again?" Nori whispered nervously, standing tall and checking the location of all his hidden daggers.

"Here goes nothin'," he uttered, jumping into the hole and bracing his body for whatever may come. He didn't fall far, but his body slid a fair distance after landing. His feet steadied softly, like always, on a rocky surface. And as he blinked into the distance a dark cavern came into view. It looked like a giant snake tunnel, winding off into separate directions, and Nori began slowly manoeuvring along it. There were symbols all along the walls as well, and he had to sneak around a number of suspicious tiles embedded in the dirt below. The place was a deathtrap.

Nori peeked around the nearest corner, ducking low as several figures floated by. He supposed it was easy to avoid the traps when you didn't have legs and he glared at them as they disappeared down the tunnel. He figured he'd found out enough, he knew the location of the lair, even how to get in, though he supposed there were several entrances similar to the one he had used. It was time to leave, but just as he began to inch back the way he came a figure appeared around the corner behind him and he found himself running forwards instead. Nori tucked his body against a niche in the wall waiting patiently for the thing to float past. He closed his eyes, listening for signs of movement, but he heard a scratchy voice instead.

Nori turned his head and focused best he could on the distant voices. He couldn't make out much, but it sounded like two, maybe three voices. Getting frustrated, Nori crawled out from his hiding place and inched closer to the sounds, sliding his back against the dirt wall.

"Búbhosh Azog," a voice hissed and Nori's eyes widened. He shifted closer to the corner, and then pulled one of his daggers from its sheath, slowly sticking it beyond the wall. He could see a cave-like room reflected in the metal, and he twisted it a few times until it reflected the images of the creatures in the room. Nori nearly dropped the blade in surprise. So it was true. Azog…the defiler, was back from the dead. The thief pressed the blade into the wall behind him, etching a small mark that he would recognise later, before lifting the blade to peer around the corner again.

"Gakh," Azog addressed the huge form in front of him, and the rest of his words Nori could not make out. The speech was guttural and foreign to him, much like the symbols etched into the walls, but he did see the unnaturally large being hand the other man a piece of crumbled paper, and then smile crookedly. That was probably a bad sign. The two figures spoke amongst each other for a short time while Nori tried to figure out what he should do.

"Mirdautas vras. It seems that we have a spy amongst us," Azog hissed. Nori startled at the Westron, and then widened his eyes when he realised what had been spoken. He glanced around quickly as dark shadows appeared at one end of the tunnel, and he noticed the hulking form getting bigger in the reflection of his dagger. The thing must have been twice Dwalin's size.

"Well…shit," Nori whispered, and then he was up and moving just a moment later. The thief ran so fast he nearly forgot to dodge the traps hidden in the ground and he stumbled and toppled across one, struggling to keep his body from touching the ground. He found the tunnel he first dropped down into and heaved a sigh of relief, until it exploded and the path before him caved in completely.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me," Nori seethed, and then he looked around frantically. Shadows were twisting along the walls of the passageways and he flew down the other tunnel away from them, taking a quick left when he saw more in the distance. He was in trouble, a whole lot of trouble. His legs struggled as he jumped over traps and navigated through tunnels he'd never travelled before, etching the occasional mark in the walls. And though he couldn't hear footfalls behind him he knew the shadows were getting closer. Sweat streamed down his face and dirt caked beneath his fingernails as he scratched at the walls for support. There was no way he was getting out of this alive.

Nori collapsed into a channel and gasped for breath. He closed his eyes, begging silently for the Valar he'd never spoken to for help. And help came, falling atop him in a clumsy heap and knocking him flat on his face.

"Ow! For goodness sake," Nori cursed, pushing the weight off his body.

"Oof!" Bofur wheezed, grabbing his stomach and stabilizing against the dirt wall. Nori started to inch away, but the tamer reached out and pulled him against the wall, cloaking them beneath his wrap for the time being. Creatures hurried by them, a rush of cold air blowing along with their shadowy forms.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Nori sneered, the distaste visible in his expression.

"My cousin conjured me in, Dori came, said you needed help," Bofur spoke cheerily, and he grinned broadly as he eyed the thief from head to toe with a sultry gaze. The other man looked exactly as he remembered, despite the new creases beginning to form on his skin. Wild red hair, a fierce gaze, and a long sexy scar down the right side of his face. His pale sightless eye was piercing as ever.

"So he sent you?! Remind me never to ask the Valar for help again," Nori seethed, but Bofur just chuckled heartily and grabbed him by the wrist as more creatures approached in the dark.

"Come on!" he shouted, dragging the thief through pathways in a hurry. The tamer shoved a hand into his bags as Nori wrenched his wrist from the other man's grip, and then Bofur was turning, throwing tiny white spheres onto the ground. They exploded into thick smoke, hiding the two men and buying enough time to find a hidden niche. Bofur pushed Nori into a wall then lent towards him, smiling seductively as he moved in for a kiss.

"Get off me you lecher," Nori shouted, punching the tamer in the gut with a strong fist. Bofur coughed dramatically, and rested heavily against the dirt wall.

"Still so coy," he chuckled through a groan as he recovered his breath then Nori grabbed him by his scarf and pulled him close to stare him down.

"Hurry up and get us out of here or I'll leave you to fend for yourself," the thief threatened. Bofur eyed him before shuffling through his satchel, digging around with his hand. He pulled out a bulky item with an engraved insignia around the outside and looked it over with narrowed eyes, turning it around in his hands.

"What was it…he said read it backwards twice, forwards once, no…that wasn't it…," Bofur pondered and Nori grew increasingly impatient with his antics.

"Give me that!" He insisted, pulling the device from the other man's grasp before looking at it intently.

"It's backwards once, forwards twice, then backwards again," Nori spoke, and Bofur smiled at him then pulled the thief taught to his body as he spoke the words of a complex spell easily. The thief growled as he realised Bofur had just been fooling around again. Light circled them and Nori gripped his fingers tighter in the tamer's clothing as his body lurched with a flash. The next moment he'd collapsed on hard stone, his head knocking against the ground painfully, while Bofur fell on top of him hard. His head was spinning and he struggled to recover his sight then widened his eyes as soft lips pressed against his own. Nori pushed the other man away from him with a yell.

"Get off me you loaf of bread!" he screeched, pulling one of his daggers out and swinging at the insolent creep. Bofur dodged the swipe with wide eyes then laughed as he scampered away, whistling a little tune. The tamer fell back onto a seat and rest his arms behind his head as he grinned at Nori deviously. The thief turned then to Bifur and gestured around wildly.

"You're crazy, I can't belief you sent this pervert in to help me," he shouted aggressively while Bofur laughed at him. Then the thief's gaze latched onto the silver haired man standing nearby.

"Nori…," the apothecary whispered, moving closer to him with worried eyes.

"Dori!" the thief gasped, drawing his older brother into a tight embrace. The two pulled back and smiled warmly, it had been years since they last stood face to face. Their reunion was short-lived however, as a certain scribe flew through the doors shouting loudly.

"Dori! Dori! I found something in the books!" Ori spoke hurriedly, waving a thick tome in the air with wide eyes.

"Is that…is that little Ori?" Nori asked in surprise. Then his arms were full as Ori charged at him and gripped him in a fierce hug. Nori lifted his brother and spun him around, squeezing the other man tight as he could manage.

"Ah, look at you little bro, grown so big. I've missed you," the thief admitted, setting the other back down carefully. Dori sighed happily and Bifur watched in silence. The three brothers had finally been reunited. Bofur smiled wistfully, his eyes softening as he gazed at Nori. The thief looked his brothers over one last time before setting a hand on their shoulders, his expression turning serious.

"There will be time for us to speak later; right now I must see the King."

 

* * *

The King's Counsel sat sombrely around their meeting table, listening intently to the thief's description of their enemy's lair. Not a soul utilized the fine herbs that sat at the centre of the table, no one quite willing to light up a pipe in such a heavy atmosphere. The initial tension at the presence of a known criminal within the palace had set many of them on guard, but Thorin knew he could trust Nori, at least to an extent. His brothers both worked within the palace walls after all.

"There are many wraiths, we would need a decent sized army to invade, especially since they have dark magic on their side. Even then, I'm not sure how we'll be able to fight them. The things I saw were ghostlike, they looked conjured. I'm not sure they will even bleed," Nori spoke quietly as he poked a blade into the wooden table aggressively. The men nearby tensed at the action but Thorin merely waited for him to continue.

"It's impenetrable, at least to us. A mass of winding underground pathways that is impossible to navigate. There are traps everywhere, above and within. And they knew of my presence, even though I was not spotted. There must be some kind of detection system nearby that warns them of approaching enemies. The runes in the sand suggest it lies beneath the ground. I'm sure they wanted me to find the entrance, otherwise I would never have gotten inside. I think there's more than one way in, easily found if I could walk around undetected," the thief explained, his eyes boring into the metal of his dagger.

"And I saw _him_ ," Nori hissed, while the King narrowed his eyes.

"Who?" Thorin's voice boomed. Nori's eyes flickered around the table before he licked his lips and growled.

"Azog the defiler," there were gasps of surprise throughout the room. Balin sat up straighter and Gandalf nodded as though he had expected such a thing all along.

"He was not…human," Nori whispered, after the ruckus died down and Thorin closed his eyes wearily. What should he do? They couldn't very well march North with an army against a bunch of undead soldiers. They barely knew what they were up against

"Thank you Nori, please, stay here in the palace for a while, I'm sure you've been missed by many," Thorin offered and the thief nodded and pried his dagger from within the wood.

"Bofur, escort him to the empty rooms in the east wing, and have your brother ready a meal," the King spoke, though Nori sneered at the tamer even as the other man offered him a kind smile.

"Um…my King. I found something as well," Ori spoke up quietly, after his brother left the room.

"I've been reading, well I'm always reading, but just this morning I thought I might look into the ancient stories of the Valar. And well, I found this," he pulled a thick tome from beneath his arm and flipped it open before placing it on the table. The left page was written in Valarin, and Thorin could read little of it, but on the right there was a dark image of a ghostlike figure with red eyes and clawed fingers. And above his fingers floated a blue jewel that Thorin thought might have been the Arkenstone.

"Melkor. Outcast by the same Valar that protect us so well. The story speaks of his desire for power, control over all beings and all worlds. He once had the power to create, and to resurrect. He was imprisoned, for a time, but then disappeared from the universe, though his powers were greatly weakened without access to Valimar. I'm not sure of course, but you suspected a Vala, and this could be the one," the scribe twittered away. Thorin looked towards the wizard as well as his advisor before pulling the book closer and handing it to Balin.

"Thank you Ori," Thorin voiced, and the scribe nodded bashfully before leaving with a timid glance in Dwalin's direction. The room was silent, except for Dís who nervously tapped her fingers against the table. Thorin rubbed at his brow, trying to ease the throbbing pain behind his eyes. Balin placed a comforting hand on his friend's back rubbing in a slow circle.

"You should relax my King, I can see the stress around your eyes," the advisor suggested, and Thorin did not offer any complaint. But how on Šebeth could he relax when war was upon them?

 

* * *

Nori walked speedily down the wide hallway in the East Wing, Bofur tailing along beside him. The thief hardly needed an escort, he'd snooped around more than enough times in these parts of the palace, but he couldn't very well say so to the King.

"Nori," Bofur began, but Nori gave him little time to continue.

"Shut up," he hissed, picking up his pace, and growing angrier still when the tamer matched it easily. They walked in silence for a few seconds before Bofur pushed the other man up against the wall and held him in place. Nori struggled in the tamer's grip. He had forgotten just how strong Bofur could be when determined, especially since the other man put on a cheerful, relaxed front near constantly. Still Nori managed to wrench one of his arms away and he had a dagger to Bofur's gut immediately after. The tamer stilled for a moment, glancing down at the blade but he pressed forward anyway, ignoring the pressure, and kissed the redhead with vigour.

Nori's grip slackened reluctantly as his lips were attacked. It felt good, passionate, and as Bofur licked across his lips then pressed between them Nori grudgingly recalled just how good a kisser the other man was. Too good, too experienced. When a leg slipped between his and Bofur's warm body ground up against him Nori bit the other's lower lip and pushed him away hard.

"Move any closer and I'll gut you," he hissed, his eyes narrowed, and his grip renewed on his blade. What was it with people lately and ignoring his threats? Bofur rubbed at his bleeding lip and glared at the thief, but Nori turned away and walked hastily in the direction of his rooms. To his annoyance he heard the other man continue to follow. Bofur reached out to grab his shoulder but Nori shook it off hastily.

"Stop it," his whispered, refusing to look at the other man.

"You can't hide from this forever, why not come back to my rooms, and I can take care of you?" Bofur suggested in the same carefree way he always spoke, his swollen lip already forgotten.

"Ugh, the thought of laying with you now makes me sick. You've probably slept with everyone inside these palace walls, perhaps even the entire Kingdom for all I know," Nori scoffed.

"Not true," the tamer replied immediately. Nori did turn to look at him then, raising an eyebrow in doubt and Bofur smirked with satisfaction as he spoke.

"I've never touched your littler brother, I'm not that stupid!"

"Damn right you haven't, I'd slit your neck if you did," Nori shouted, waving his dagger threateningly at the other man.

"Heh, Dwalin doesn't seem to mind sticking his tongue down Ori's throat," the tamer suggested casually and Nori stopped in his tracks with blazing eyes.

"That piece of shit! I knew it! I'll kill him, strangle him in his sleep," the thief growled, even as a guard walked by and eyed him suspiciously. Bofur waved him away and moved a little closer, but Nori turned to keep moving.

"Ori might not like that much," the tamer responded as they reached the other man's rooms. Instead of a loud reply Nori merely sighed and lowered his shoulders wearily.

"I'm tired…I've had a rough day," he whispered, rubbing a few stray hairs back into their place above his head.

"Don't I get a goodnight kiss?" Bofur asked, and Nori glared, before reaching to open his door.

"No," he deadpanned, but as he was stepping into his room Bofur turned his body aggressively, pulling him close. This time the kiss was gentle, chaste even, and over very quickly. Just long enough that it left a lingering pressure on Nori's lips. Bofur's head rest against his and he whispered into the redhead's ear.

"I haven't been with another, Nori. Just words, is all. Silly jests. It's only ever been you," the tamer ran his fingers gently across the other man's back while Nori's gaze locked onto the fang that hung from his ear. It was hypnotizing, watching it swing gently back and forth. Bofur cupped the side of his face gently with a heated gaze. He stroked a thumb across the scarring atop Nori's eye before pressing his lips to the other man's cheekbone. Nori shuddered and closed his eyes, surprised by the sincerity he felt in such a simple touch. Then suddenly the warmth was gone as Bofur pulled away from him with lowered eyes.

"Sweet dreams, my thief," he whispered, leaving Nori to stare at his retreating back.

 

* * *

The King heaved a sigh of relief as he walked into the warmth of one of the bathing rooms. He unclasped his heavy cloak and folded it carefully on a bench before placing his crown atop the cloth. His muscles ached, and he stretched them with a soft groan in the smoky atmosphere. The rest of his coverings came off quickly and he threw them far more carelessly into a heap nearby, gripped one of the thick towels in hand and moved deeper into the baths. His feet slapped lightly against the tiled floors and already he could feel the warmth of the room easing his stress, though he could not wait to slink into the soothing water.

There was a sweet aroma in the air, from one of the soaps he did not usually use, and as he grew nearer he noticed a curly honey brown head of hair poking up from the edge of the bath. Thorin moved a little nearer, wrapping the towel around his waist until the other man turned towards him with startled eyes.

"Forgive me, I did not realize these baths were in use," the King uttered with a bow as he looked upon Bilbo discreetly. The small man slunk further beneath the water and smiled gently, but Thorin was still able to see the slick smooth line of his shoulders. He had such incredibly soft skin.

"It's alright, they are spacious, that is, if you don't mind my company," the jeweller voiced, turning to face away as Thorin removed his towel confidently and slipped into the water on the opposite side. The King relaxed with his arms spread out upon the tiles behind him, and he closed his eyes and breathed in deep. The sweet smell was actually rather nice, and in no time at all the pounding in his temples had eased and he opened his eyes dazedly. Bilbo was watching him, but when the King met his gaze the small man glanced away with a gasp.

"Thank you, my King, for allowing us to stay here," he stuttered, trying not to look at Thorin's powerful arms. How on earth could a man look so regal while taking a bath? Bilbo figured he looked as silly as ever, wrinkled up like a prune, flushed from the heated waters. His size was unusual in these parts, and his body inadequate and perhaps even a bit pudgy. He hunched into himself feeling incredibly insecure in the King's presence.

"How are the children?" Thorin asked, his deep voice startling Bilbo, and he lifted his eyes towards Thorin's piercing blue ones. Royal eyes. He'd heard the direct heirs of the line always held brilliant blue eyes, like the waters of their lands, and the legendary Arkenstone.

"Adapting well, they enjoy playing hide and seek in the winding hallways. So many places to sneak," Bilbo chuckled, though he quickly cowered under the intense gaze directed at him.

"I'm sorry, if they are disturbing anyone, it's…tedious to keep track of so many in such a large place, I'm doing my best but..," Bilbo nervously tittered, and he brushed back a lock of hair behind his left ear and pulled his knees to his chest.

"No need to worry, it has been some time since a child walked these halls. I've found it quite refreshing," The King spoke wistfully, and he lent his head back against the edge of the bath, recalling the few years after Kíli's birth. The youngest Prince had been full of life, even at only two years old, crawling surprisingly fast between the legs of the palace staff, and occasionally running down the halls. He remembered the recklessness of both his nephews, how Fíli would carry Kíli about, getting into trouble and laughing all the while. Those were such happy times. Fíli had loved his little brother so much. He nearly recovered completely from the death of his father while he played with the other child.

"You've never had your own," Bilbo stated, and Thorin looked across at him lazily.

"No, though my sister's children…I think of them as my own…," he admitted, reaching for a cloth to begin rubbing at his skin.

"Children? There is more than one? I had thought Prince Fíli the only…," the jeweller trailed off. He knew little about the royal family to be honest.

"There…was another, he was stolen from us, still a baby," Thorin spoke calmly and the other man's eyes widened in anguish.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo whispered regretfully. Thorin's eyes softened, and he smiled gently. It was a remarkable sight when the King smiled, it changed his character completely. Bilbo wished he did so more often.

"There's no need for remorse, I believe he has been returned to us," the King said, then he moved to stand, water dripping from his skin. Bilbo lowered his eyes again, assuming the other man had grown tired of their conversation but nearly jumped from the bath when Thorin sat down beside him instead.

"You're not from here are you?" Thorin asked, his voice far stronger up close.

"No, I come from far to the west, beyond even the Sindarin countries. A land on the great yellow sea, with the whitest sands you've ever seen," Bilbo responded, looking hastily into the waters and trying to hide what the soap did not.

"You speak our language well," The King sighed, stretching in his new seat, and Bilbo gazed at the muscles he could see beneath the surface nearby. They were nearly touching, Thorin's thick legs settled only an inch away from his own.

"I arrived many years ago, I was still a boy. My father died when I was very young, and my mother…she was killed in a raid, that left me with nothing, and turned our lands the colour of charcoal. I wandered the wild until a caravan found me and brought me here," Bilbo asked, looking directly into Thorin's eyes in an effort to stop his wandering gaze. It was a mistake, and his face flushed heatedly as he dropped his eyes to the other man's chest instead.

"Then you are an orphan yourself?" Thorin asked, his own gaze wandering along the other man's form. Bilbo's hands rest across his belly protectively, but that left much of the rest of his body available for the King's viewing pleasure.

"Yes," Bilbo whispered, his eyes busy observing the dark hairs that riddled Thorin's chest.

"You have no children of your own either?" The King asked, raising his eyes to look at Bilbo's face. The other man was blatantly staring at him, and Thorin felt his balls tightening and his cock filling at the mere thought.

"No, though much like you…I consider all of the little ones as if they were my own," Bilbo admitted, pulling his gaze away from the other man with great difficulty. He was acting shameful, looking at what could never belong to a commoner like himself. The King shifted beside him, pulling a thigh up and running wet fingers through his long silver-streaked hair.

"You said I was kind, you are far kinder. Many have called me heartless," Thorin admitted.

"I often neglect those I care for to ensure the safety of my Kingdom and people. My own family, my sister, she's always thought me cold and uncaring, that I worry more about the safety of the Arkenstone than my own nephews," he spoke sadly, and Bilbo reached out to place soft fingers against his arm.

"Even I can see you care very much about your family Thorin. You are a good King. You do what you must, to care for your people, and in your heart you still treasure those you love above all. Not many men can claim such balance," Bilbo spoke insistently and his eyes were full of sincerity. Thorin looked towards the fingers touching his skin and they were pulled away quickly, leaving a burning sensation behind. Bilbo shook nervously, debating whether or not he should get up and leave, or wait for the other out of embarrassment. His nerves won and he moved to rise, but a strong grip held him in place against the tiles of the bath. A second later he was engulfed by Thorin's arms and he gasped loudly as worn lips pressed against him. The other man pulled away quickly, sitting back stiffly.

"My…king," Bilbo whispered in shock, watching as Thorin looked down into the water irritably.

"Forgive me, I've overstepped," he whispered but Bilbo refused to accept such nonsense. He gathered up as much courage as he could muster, then wrapped his arms around the King's neck and pulled his body up for another kiss. Thorin gaped at him, but yielded, opening his lips and returning the kiss with vigour. The jeweller gasped as Thorin nipped at his lower lip then pulled the smaller man up to straddle him. Slick skin rubbed together and Bilbo opened his eyes in surprise as the King's sizable hardness rubbed along the crease of his ass.

"Oh, Yavanna bless," Bilbo hissed, closing his eyes as the other man began to kiss along the curve of his neck. Thorin ran his hands down Bilbo's sides, gripping his flesh firmly between thick fingers, and the jeweller flushed then huddled into his body in shame. The King ignored the reaction, pulling at the other man's arms and lifting him against his chest so that he was standing astride him, the water lapping around the jeweller's hips. Bilbo gasped as a warm tongue grazed across the skin of his belly, then along the length of his arousal. Fingers traced between his legs and he shuddered as the King began teasing his entrance and lapping at the head of his cock. His hardness was surrounded by broad lips as the King sucked his length thoroughly, drawing beads of seed from the tip of his cock. Bilbo collapsed against him, desperately trying to hold his body up on the ridge of the bath.

He was turning into a writhing mess, liquid dripping from his erection as tiny moans of pleasure left his lips. A single finger slipped inside his body, and Bilbo whined, losing control of his limbs. He huddled against the King's body, and Thorin supported him, stretching his passage with a steady hand. Bilbo thought he might faint from heat. The water felt cool on his skin now, and his face positively burned. It was as the other man spread his legs and lowered his body that Bilbo regained control of his mind. The jeweller placed his hands on Thorin's chest and breathed into his ear.

"I must warn you, I take such acts very seriously," he whispered, quivering as the other man's cock grazed against his hole. Thorin's grip tightened in his side, and he entangled the other into Bilbo's lovely curls.

"As do I," his deep tenor sounded, and he slunk into Bilbo's heat. Their lovemaking was slow, languid, and rhythmic. The fragrant smells of the soaps invaded Bilbo's senses and his body went limp against the other man, while he gasped and moaned at his touches. Thorin eased him up and down with strong arms, entering his body further with each thrust. The jeweller breathed against Thorin's chest, his lips catching on the coarse hairs, and little tears leaked from the corner of his eyes as emotions engulfed him. He finally managed to lift his upper body, leaning back and gazing at the ornate ceiling as the King gave him pleasure. The repetitive thrusts against his prostate had him squeezing his passage tightly, bringing the occasional sound of pleasure from the King. Each noise made Bilbo grin in satisfaction, and he found himself giggling as his body was overcome by sensation.

It dawned on him that he was riding the King's cock, and moaning unabashedly in his presence. Bilbo glanced towards Thorin's face in shame, but the other man looked equally dishevelled. The King's face was flushed with pleasure, his lips open as he breathed deeply, and Thorin's blue eyes were glazed over as he looked into Bilbo's gaze sincerely.

Thorin wrapped his fingers around Bilbo's cock, and he tugged, gently rubbing water and semen up and down the soft skin. The slick friction felt incredible, and in no time at all Bilbo cried out and came across the other man's chest. Thorin continued to rub him, easing the last of his release from his body, and then the King lifted the smaller man from his cock and propped him over the edge of the bath. The cool tile felt wonderful against Bilbo's skin and he pressed his cheek against it as Thorin slid inside his body from behind. The King's movements were more erratic now, thrusting aggressively and at different lengths as he lost control of his senses. A large hand pressed against the jeweller's belly, holding him in place for every thrust. Bilbo screamed each time his prostate was grazed, and he writhed against the tiles as the King's fingers ran across his sensitive skin.

Thorin groaned loudly, pumping hard against his body, finally succumbing to his release. The strange warmth filled Bilbo and he squirmed against the other man, pushing back to take him fully inside. Bilbo breathed heavily against the slippery floor, exhausted and sated. He was already drifting off as the King slipped from him. But still Thorin ran his fingers down the other man's back tenderly, and pushed wet curls away from his face. Bilbo's eyes drooped as the larger man pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade and cleaned him gently with a towel.

Much later in the evening Bilbo awoke, nestled along the King's body and in an unfamiliar room. He smiled warmly and cuddled closer, tugging thick blankets atop his form. Then the other man shifted beside him and a strong arm wrapped around him in return.

 

* * *

Kíli spent several days doing his very best to avoid the Prince. He had not danced for the court in a few days either, with the recent bustling of activity, and the worries of oncoming war, there had been little time for the usual evening celebrations. Even Fíli had been busy, working alongside his uncle, discussing how they might approach their enemy in the north. Kíli always pretended to be long asleep when the Prince returned to his rooms, leaving plenty of area for the other man on the spacious bed.

He was torn, he loved the Prince, dearly, and he loved being with him, kissing him. But they were brothers…and that meant, they could never be together, didn't it? Would the Prince be disgusted if he found out? Would he cast Kíli away? No, that was silly, Fíli desperately missed his brother, and surely he would be happy to at least have found him. But Kíli did not want to just be the other man's brother. He would gladly live out the rest of his days without the knowledge if it meant he could continue to love the Prince romantically.

The dancer sat solemnly in the gardens, looking at the fountain with a forlorn expression. He could keep it a secret, never tell a soul, but then there would be the guilt. And it was unfair to keep such information from Fíli, from the man he loved. He had to tell him. His fingers played with the petals of a nearby flower. The petals were a deep purple, it was quite beautiful, though he had yet to see an unattractive flower in the palace gardens. He plucked it gently and twirled it between his fingers, leaning close to smell, and then closed his eyes.

"Columbine," Fíli's rich voice whispered in his ear, and Kíli startled and turned to the other man in surprise. The Prince plucked the flower from his hands and looked at it for a moment.

"Beautiful at first glance, but its roots and seeds are highly toxic. Do you like this one?" he asked, looking into Kíli's eyes. The dancer found he couldn't hold the gaze, trying to control his shaky nerves.

"It's…alright I suppose," he whispered. His fingers clenched into fists before he started playing with some of his golden chains.

"I don't think it suits you. For you, I would choose, the moonflower," The Prince spoke and Kíli's eyes widened as a white star shaped flower was thrust beneath his downcast gaze. It was unusual looking, for a flower. The petals pulled up into curled points, and they twisted intricately into the centre, though he didn't quite understand why Fíli thought it suited him.

"It blooms only under the light of a moon, and smells sweeter than any other flower in these palace gardens. Poisonous, yes, in high doses, though it also holds the power to heal. A flower full of secrets," Fíli murmured. Kíli blushed and pulled it close to his nose. True to his word, the fragrance was sweet, and even made the dancer feel a little lightheaded. He focused on the flower and knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He had to tell him, but when his lips opened to speak, not a single word escaped.

"It feels as though I have not seen or spoken to you in days," Fíli admitted, looking his dancer over with keen eyes. The other man wore the lovely snake earrings he had purchased from Bilbo, and the green satin belts. His shawl and leggings appeared fashioned to match, and the mixed greens looked amazing on him.

"These are beautiful, they suit you," Fíli said, running a finger across the fabric over the other man's leg. Kíli flinched under the touch and the Prince frowned then removed his hand.

"Glóin made them to match Bilbo's jewels. He's very fond of his work," Kíli muttered nervously. He was afraid. All he wanted to do was lean in and kiss the Prince, but he couldn't, not now that he knew the truth. The two men sat quietly, while Kíli looked at the flower he held and Fíli fiddled with a small box. Eventually the Prince turned to him and held out the package.

"I would like you to have this," he said, pulling off the lid and revealing a decadent jewel. Kíli gaped at it as the sunlight flickered from the gem.

"It's beautiful," He whispered, lifting the chain and letting the jewel hang from his fingers. Kíli's gaze flickered between it and Fíli's face.

"It's…it's like the stone in your crown," he spoke, holding it up higher in awe. Fíli pulled it from Kíli's grasp and unclasped the chain, moving to wrap it around the dancer's neck. He pulled Kíli's hair out from underneath and kissed his neck. The dancer inhaled quickly but did not flinch.

"It is that stone, it's the Arkenstone," Fíli whispered into his ear, and Kíli turned around to look at him in surprise.

"W-what?" he asked, looking up at the Prince's crown, his brother's crown. A blue jewel still lay there, faceted and circled by tiny little gems just like always. He glanced between the two jewels, noticing that the one around his neck shone just a little brighter, appeared just a little richer.

"I had Bilbo make a double, quite similar at first glance isn't it?" Fíli asked. Kíli nodded and lifted the chain from his neck, running a thumb over the jewel.

"It's smaller than I expected, no one would know," he muttered.

"So many tales of this jewel and yet, no one truly knows what it looks like or where it was hidden. Except for us of course," Fíli spoke with a soft smile and Kíli looked directly into his eyes for the first time in days. It was difficult not to sink into the blue depths.

"Why, why give it to me?" He asked, letting the necklace fall against his skin.

"I trust you, and I trust you will keep it safe," the words startled Kíli and he felt his eyes begin to water.

"It holds a great power. The Arkenstone is the source of our Kingdom's fortune. Its mere presence keeps our rivers running with water while our lands are surrounded by nothing but empty desert. It is capable of more of course, in the right hands, or the wrong ones, but our family has vowed never to exploit it. We keep it safe, we keep our people safe, that is all that is needed. The Valar blessed Thrór with this stone when he created our Kingdom. He guarded its secrets. And with each generation we take a vow to do the same," Fíli explained, playing with a few of Kíli's long strands of hair. The dancer faltered before him, gripping the flower in his fingers so tightly the stem nearly snapped in half.

"You can't give me this," He insisted.

"Why not?" The other man asked and Kíli shook his head in regret. He had to tell him, had to.

"It belongs to your Kingdom, your...f-family," Kíli stumbled over the word, knowing that technically, he was family as well. Fíli smiled at him, touching the bottom of his chin, before kissing his nose.

"I was hoping, you might stay here, beside me, as my consort, as my most treasured," Fíli suggested and Kíli stared at him with wide eyes. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and felt his heart tighten painfully in his chest. That was it then. Kíli loved him too much. He couldn't let it all go. Perhaps if he never told a soul, it would stay secret forever. He could shut it away, pretend he didn't know.

"Le me-lin," Kíli whispered, his voice shaking as tears began running down his face.

"What did you say?" Fíli asked, and then he frowned as he saw the sun reflecting off the other man's face.

"Kíli?" Fíli whispered, reaching out to rub away a tear, and Kíli jumped at him. The dancer pressed his face into his brother's chest, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck. He felt as Fíli tugged him close and rubbed at his back soothingly. Kíli's fingers pulled at the Prince's blonde hair and his shoulders shook with sobs, but he was smiling, because he was in love. No matter what, no matter who he was, he would always love Fíli. The two sat like that, huddled together on a small bench until Kíli's tears abated. Fíli pressed his nose into the dancer's dark hair, breathing in deep.

"Will you dance for me later tonight? Just me," he asked the other, and Kíli nodded into his chest, his fingers tightening further, both around the moonflower and in Fíli's golden hair.

 

* * *

The King's council was to meet again and Thorin hurried down the halls. He'd awoken late, far later than he remembered waking in years. And even after waking up, he'd lain happily in bed for nearly an hour; just looking at Bilbo's sleeping face. When the other man woke as well the two gazed at each other and kissed lazily until a guard had alerted the King to the time. Bilbo rushed from his bed, and hurried away to check on the children, and Thorin tried to make himself presentable enough to look the part of a King.

"Well look at you brother, seems like you had a lovely evening. You're far livelier than normal," Dís spoke as she rounded a corner to walk with him. Thorin straightened his back and glared at her, but she just chuckled. It seemed he had not succeeded.

"I told you so," she muttered, pushing her hip into the heavy doors to the council room. Thorin sighed and entered after, sitting down while others filed in and did the same. This time Thorin indulged in the fine herbs and was the first to light up his midwakh. They discussed a few simple matters, signed several trade agreements and moved towards the worrisome subject of war.

"My King, another shop was attacked last night. Sindri's Sapphires," Balin spoke regretfully.

"That shop is generations old. The owners set my father's and grandfather's crowns, and crafted many of our ancient relics," Thorin admitted worriedly before looking towards his nephew's crown. He had a hunch why the jewellers were being targeted now.

"Aye, he's…gravely injured, tortured it seems. Oín is caring for him, though I doubt he'll live," the advisor spoke. Thorin scratched at his beard, his earlier relaxed state quickly diminishing.

"Did he mention what they wanted?" Thorin asked but Balin shook his head sadly.

"I'm afraid he's unable to speak, my King," the advisor explained, and several men around the table scrunched up their faces. Thorin took a long whiff of the rich herbs and tapped out his pipe. It was time to take action, he'd let these attacks progress for too long already.

"Bofur, send a message to the Kingdoms of the East and South. See if they can offer us any aid in this time of need. We are at war, and I refuse to allow another within my Kingdom's walls to suffer at the hands of this enemy," The King commanded, and Bofur quickly scrawled a message and sent it off with Sanbaghud while the council whispered in excitement.

"Bifur, I trust you've made some discoveries that will be of use?" Thorin asked the warlock, and he grunted and made a few choice hand signals.

"Gandalf, can you get us close without detection?" The King asked, eyeing the wizard carefully. He was still a little wary of the other man.

"If their methods of detection lay beneath the sands, as Nori suspects, then yes, it should not be a problem," The tall man spoke calmly. Thorin nodded and looked around the room, at the men he'd grown to trust with his life, his best friends. Then his sister seated beside him, whom he loved for her undying stubborn nature and common sense. And finally his nephew, who had grown into a strong willed and determined young man. His eyes were focused and supportive as they looked towards Thorin. Someday Fíli would make a great King.

"Dwalin, prepare the armies. As soon as we hear back, we march."

 

* * *

The walk from the council room was a long one, and Fíli felt the events of the day weighing on his shoulders. War. They were going to war. It was not something he ever thought would happen during his lifetime. He was so tired when he reached his rooms that he lent against the doors for nearly a minute before a guard asked if he was alright. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for days. The Prince waved off the guard politely and pushed open the door, closing it heavily behind him. He moved to pour a glass of wine, taking a long sip before walking further into his rooms, and then he nearly dropped the glass in surprise.

Fíli choked on the liquid in his mouth as he looked at the sight before him. Kíli lay sprawled atop the bedding, propped up on his elbows, in absolutely nothing but his jewelled bangles and belts. Fíli's eyes were immediately drawn to the other man's cock, nestled delicately between his legs and framed by fine dark hairs. Then he roamed the dancer's form, taking in every single detail. Kíli's skin was bronzed everywhere it seemed, and he had painted himself with decorative floral patterns up his shoulders and thighs. His eyes were framed with charcoal and his hair was woven intricately back in braided rows, the moonflower fully bloomed and tied between the strands. Jewels dangled seductively from his ears, and the Arkenstone hung around his neck, gleaming brilliantly as it caught the light of candles and lanterns. He wore the panther as well, and Fíli's eyes followed the line of its curved body down until he was led right back to where he started. His hand grew sweaty around the glass and it began slipping from his grip as his breathing quickened with lust.

"Do you still wish for me to dance, my Prince?" Kíli asked seductively, moving his legs apart slightly as the bangles at his waist dangled across his coppery skin. Fíli let out a few guttural noises, trying to find his voice, as the other man sat up on the edge of the bed and ran his tongue out across his lower lip.

"I would like that, very much," Fíli breathed, and stood frozen as the other man pushed off of the bed and approached him slowly. Kíli's hips moved as he walked, shaking in little jerky actions, and he reached out and pulled the glass from between the Prince's fingers. Fíli watched the other man heatedly, observing the round globes of his ass while he put the glass down on a table and looking into his eyes as he returned. The dancer reached up, unlatching Fíli's heavy cloak and letting it fall in a heap on the lush carpets. Then he started his dance, circling the Prince, and pausing dramatically as his wrists and hands twitched and turned delicately.

"Am I allowed to touch you?" Fíli asked under his breath as the other man brushed up against his side.

"You may do whatever you wish, my Prince," Kíli replied, wrapping a leg around the other man's waist and bending his back while he held on.

"Fíli, please, call me Fíli," The Prince requested, pressing his hardness into Kíli as he ran a hand down the other man's long front. Kíli pulled himself up and pushed against the other man's body, dancing and rutting against him at the same time.

"As you desire, _Fíli_ ," he whispered, nipping at the Prince's ear. Then he pulled away and began to walk Fíli back towards the bed. Kíli inched him along, reaching up to unbuckle clasps while they moved. Fíli's belt hung from his body, and the dancer pulled it off, and tossed the cutlass on the ground with it. Then he moved to untie Fíli's silk shirt, pulling at the laces to expose his muscular chest. The Prince felt the backs of his knees hit the bed and he gripped Kíli's waist tightly as the other man reached up to remove his crown. Kíli grinned at him before placing it atop his own dark hair, and Fíli groaned and fell backwards, pulling Kíli atop his body.

They kissed, grinding against each other until Kíli pulled away and began to lick down Fíli's chest. Then he stood, straddling the Prince as he danced above him seductively. Fíli gripped Kíli's ankles as the other moved, then the dancer bent his back and dropped, before he started to dance on his knees. When Kíli began to contort his body, Fíli acted, throwing the other face first into the bedding and attacking his body thoroughly with his tongue. Kíli trembled and groaned, as Fíli licked down his back, pressing a chaste kiss just above the crease of his ass. And then the Prince gripped his rear in both hands, and pulled the cheeks apart so he could lick a stripe across his exposed pucker. The dancer keened at the foreign sensation and bucked up into the other man's tongue while his hands gripped tightly in the sheets. Fíli swiped his tongue repeatedly across the other man's hole, and then he prodded it and pressed forward until his tongue breached the dancer's entrance.

Kíli writhed and screamed, his arousal dripping and rubbing against the thick blankets atop Fíli's bed. It felt unbelievable, having the other man's tongue in such a private place, his brother's tongue. Somehow it was incredibly dirty, and yet so perfect at the same time. And as Fíli reached around to run a hand down his belly, and his tongue licked between Kíli's thighs, he could care less that they were of the same blood. Dirty was good, very good.

Kíli reached his legs back suddenly and bent around pulling Fíli with him as they rolled off the bed onto the floor with a thud. The fall didn't faze either of them, and in no time Fíli had pulled Kíli atop him so they could kiss heatedly on the plush carpets. The dancer ground into the body beneath him hard, moaning at the contact, and Fíli pushed him back into the table beside the bed. Glass vases shook and fell to the ground, shattering. But the two men paid no mind, continuing the thrust against each other excitedly. Kíli reached back to grip the wood behind him, and the table knocked into the wall as they rutted against each other's bodies.

"Please, Fíli, please," Kíli begged, rubbing his hole teasingly against Fíli's cock, and the man lifted him and threw him into the wall instead. Glass embedded in the Prince's feet, but he ignored that too, ravaging the other man's beautiful neck sloppily. They bashed into a cupboard, sending more items flying to the carpets, and the crown slipped from Kíli's head to the ground. The dancer tore at Fíli's shirt, and it ripped along the seam of his sleeve, hanging loosely off his shoulder. The two rolled their way across the room towards another finer table, and Kíli fell forwards onto it, knocking a lantern on its side. The Prince caught it, righted it, and grabbed the oil, before forcing Kíli up against the curtains that led to the balcony.

Fingers slipped into Kíli's entrance, slicking him, and Fíli's teeth nibbled at the dancer's lips tenderly. They rutted against the glass window, Kíli's hands gripping the curtains and tugging as he held his body up. The dancer's hair was a mess, pulled from the intricate design and sticking to his sweaty face and neck. He growled as Fíli slipped three fingers in his passage, pulling them apart, and then gasped as the Prince dropped to his knees to take his cock between his lips. Kíli's head flew back into the glass, hard enough to send him reeling from the pain, but he shuddered at the pleasure that coincided with it. His feet slipped in the oily mess of the carpets and one of the curtain rods fell from the window as he yanked hard at the hanging fabric.

Kíli pushed the other man off him then straddled him on the ground, pressing against his cock as he eased down onto it. The Prince moaned at the sensation, gripping fingers aggressively into the other man's sides before running them across his soft skin. Fíli pinched Kíli's nipples, and pulled him down hard, slipping in as deep as he could manage. The dancer screeched, throwing his head back in pleasure, his hands flying out for whatever was in reach. Thin fingers wrapped around a handle and the wardrobe flung open as Fíli thrust up into the other man's supple body. Kíli pulled capes and cloaks from hangers as his arms flailed about, gasping as his prostate was hit repeatedly. The Prince pounded into the other man, while Kíli's legs quivered astride him. Dark eyes met with ocean blue, and Fíli slowed, sitting up to connect their lips. The dancer clenched around his brother as they sucked and licked across each other's faces, then Fíli spread his legs and thrust hard, sending the other man backwards, while Kíli wrenched the entire wardrobe door off its hinges.

"Muindor!" Kíli shouted, reaching forward to scrape his fingernails across Fíli's back. The Prince lifted him, managing to get them to the bed but not on it, and he thrust up into Kíli's heat against the side of the mattress. His arms gripped the bedding and Kíli gripped him, gasping into his ear as Fíli's cock drove into his body.

"Gin…melathon…an-uir," Kíli panted between breaths and Fíli smiled, enjoying the words even though he did not understand their meaning. The Prince pulled one arm up around Kíli's back, and then he gripped his fingers into the knotty mess of hair, pulling the dancer's head down so they could kiss again. Fíli's tongue scraped along the roof of Kíli's mouth drawing tiny grunts and groans from his throat. Then the Prince reached down to pump him, running his thumb over the tip of his erection and squeezing the length in tight strokes. Kíli tightened around him and screamed, dragging his nails down Fíli's back hard enough to draw blood, but the Prince continued to thrust and work him steadily.

Tears leaked from the corners of Kíli's eyes as he jerked and released onto the other man's chest, and Fíli kissed them away one by one. The Prince placed both his hands behind Kíli's head, and kissed him tenderly, moving their lips together in a slow dance. It was sensual and breathtaking, and as he continued to thrust gently through Kíli's orgasm, pleasure overcame him. His hardness thickened with blood and pulsed inside the other man, warm seed spurting into the tight passage. He rutted a few more times into Kíli's heat, groaning as the sticky liquid seeped out around his softening cock. The two men collapsed against each other, in a complete mess, sweat dripping from their bodies while semen caked between them.

"My beloved," Fíli whispered, wiping hair from Kíli's face and lips. He pressed their noses together, and slipped from the other's body regretfully, the intoxicating scent of the moonflower overwhelming his senses. Kíli's legs slumped against him, and the two men leaned into each other for support, still gasping for air. After sharing a few more lazy kisses, they managed to crawl onto the bed, sprawled atop the blankets, leaving the room in complete disarray around them.

 

* * *

There was a strange feeling in the air. A chill, that seeped through his bones. Bofur stood atop the sand just to the North of Erebor waiting, listening. Sanbaghud had yet to return, but that was expected. The return trip to so many kingdoms, even by flight, would take her several days. His tigers paced around and between his legs, unsettled by the stiffness in the air. And a thick cluster of dark clouds floated ominously above, approaching ever closer with each passing day. A storm was approaching, and quickly.

"I've seen the skies like this, only once before in my lifetime," a voice sounded from behind and Bofur turned with a start. Gandalf the Grey stood calmly, his walking stick gripped tightly in his hand as he looked towards the Northern skies. He had a knack for sneaking up on people, appearing out of thin air. Even Nadir and Karida had not noticed him approaching. The wizard bent and let the tigers sniff and lick at his fingers before offering the other man some herbs to smoke, but Bofur declined. For once, he was not in the mood to smoke. His mind was unsettled and his fingers too shaky to hold a pipe between them.

"When was that?" the tamer asked curiously, as he gently rubbed Nadir's ears. Even during his many travels across the expansive lands of Šebeth, he had never seen a sky look quite so ominous. The sandstorms to the West were terrifying of course, killing men and trapping them in the desolate wild, and the great thunderstorms of the South East were loud and powerful. But even then, when the skies were dark and flashing with lightning the clouds did not appear so angry. Something was different about the oncoming darkness, more foreboding.

"Why, before the last Great War of course," Gandalf spoke sagely, and Bofur eyed him with astonished eyes. The last Great War was nearly three centuries ago. Exactly how old was the mysterious wizard? Little was known about Gandalf the Grey, where he came from, what his purpose was, where he got his name from. The elderly man had looked exactly the same for as long as Bofur had known him. A long greying beard, and a face that had weathered many years. He found himself thanking the Valar that the wizard was on their side, and not their enemy's.

Gandalf puffed on his pipe for a moment longer then offered the tamer a kind smile before trekking down the steep sand slope in a rickety manner. Bofur could hear his grumbling and faint whistling for a long time thereafter. His eyes roamed the skies, watching for any sign of movement. It was only a matter of time, before they were at war. He could only hope they would be ready first.

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not done writing. But on the plus side…the next part is going to be a bit longer than I was expecting. Oh, and I realise the Thilbo was rather fast developing. But I don't think everyone dillydallies when it comes to relationships. Both Bilbo and Thorin have gone a long time without experiencing love...and sometimes, you just know. Under the circumstances of oncoming war I figured they wouldn't waste a whole lot of time.
> 
> Arômêz: Valarin for Oromë, the Horn Blower, a powerful huntsman renowned for his anger and wrath.
> 
> Shamukh!: Hail!, in Khuzdul
> 
> Pungi: A snake charming wind instrument made from a gourd
> 
> Zharum: Hair, in Khuzdul
> 
> Mukhuh: Please/May I?, in Khuzdul
> 
> Amrad 'Azug: Death Drake, in Khuzdul
> 
> Iniðil: Lily, in Valarin
> 
> Næchærra: The name of Oromë's horse, in Valarin
> 
> Delgûmâ: Dome/Dome of Heaven, in Valarin
> 
> Naškad: Ring, in Valarin
> 
> Or 'waith bain nura Anor, A panlû elin cuinar, Ú-pedithon 'i-aur gwann,' Egor nai îl 'namarië': Above all shadows rides the Sun, And stars always dwell. I will not say 'The day is done', Or to the stars 'farewell'. This is a poem written by Tolkien, Sam's Song, in Sindarin, that I thought was very fitting. Found here: .
> 
> Goheno nin: Forgive me, in Sindarin
> 
> Guren min gaim lín: My heart is in your hands, in Sindarin
> 
> Búbhosh: Great, in Black Speech
> 
> Gakh: Three, in Black Speech
> 
> Mirdautas vras: It is a good day to kill, in Black Speech
> 
> Le Me-lin: I love you, in Sindarin
> 
> Muindor: Dear brother, in Sindarin
> 
> Gin melathon an-uir: I will love you for eternity, in Sindarin


	5. Mânawenûz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final part. I may upload a short epilogue sometime soon…as I'm planning a sequel. There's lots of action in this part, and a fair amount of smut. Though currently I've got a bit of an urge to delve into something Aidean.

_The baby in his arms was a sweet thing. He had a tiny red face, eyes shut tight while he slept the day away. Each of his hands was smaller than one of Thorin's thumbs, and the King smiled at the remarkably strong grip Kíli held around his fingers. Such soft skin. It would be callused and hardened in a few years from play and sword training most likely. But for now, the little baby was unblemished, unmarred, born on the sacred day, and blessed by the Valar. A beautiful child._

_Thorin shifted the boy on his arm, sitting down in a wooden chair as he rocked him. His fingers brushed through the little tuft of dark hairs atop the baby's head then moved down to touch the necklace that lay against his skin. The King played with the tiny chain that hung around his nephew's neck. He was a Prince of Erebor. How lucky they were to have two healthy little Princes walking their halls. And the people would be so overjoyed. Ever since Dís announced her second pregnancy to the Kingdom, the people had been bustling with excitement at the thought of another royal child. Even during the recent weeks, while his sister suffered from sorrow the residents had supported them, offering whatever they could to help in her time of need._

_He looked up as the heavy doors were pried open. His eldest nephew heaved them in several tries, grinning as he managed to pass through the entryway, a strong one already. He approached with an excited skip, happier than he'd been in several months. The loss of his father had struck deep, and Thorin had done as much as he could to fill the void, but that was impossible. The birth of Fíli's baby brother however, seemed to have helped immensely._

" _Where's your mother?" Thorin asked gently, reaching out to run a hand through Fíli's blonde hair._

" _Sleeping. Master Oín said she's still recovering since it was a tough birth," the child replied, and he began to climb up on Thorin's lap. The King shifted again, lifting Kíli into his left arm, so that Fíli could rest against the opposite side._

" _Aye, it was," Thorin muttered, hugging his nephew close while the boy looked down at his brother. The birth had taken well over a day, much longer than the Princess's firstborn. Her screams had rung out through the palace walls, guards cringing at her cries of pain. Master Oín had worked endlessly at her side, shouting orders and doing all he could to keep her comfortable. And she was still filled with anguish at the loss of her husband._

_It had been an exhausting few months. Though Erebor was safe, and there was little suffering, unfortunately accidents still happened. It was impossible for the Valar to save everyone, and in this case they had chosen to protect Dís and her unborn child. But the little baby in his arms was a blessing in disguise. His sister's eyes had been alight with joy at the first sight of him. And Thorin was sure Víli would have been grateful he saved his wife and child. He would be blessed with new life, somewhere, someday, and his memory would never be forgotten._

_Fíli poked at his brother with gentle fingers, touching along the baby's nose and prodding the necklace around his neck._

" _What's this mean?" he asked, tracing the ancient words that circled the pendant._

" _These are the words your great grandfather spoke before the Valar blessed us with Erebor. The gods names around the top, in Valarin, and a prayer, around the bottom in Quenya," he spoke, watching as Fíli's blue eyes took all of it in. Fíli thumbed at the thick symbols in the centre fondly and Thorin smiled at him._

" _You know what that says right?" The King asked.  
_

" _Kíli," his nephew sounded out, before flipping the pendant over and pointing at the symbol on the back._

" _And that's our family crest," Fíli spoke excitedly, looking up into his uncle's eyes._

" _That's right," Thorin said, squeezing his nephew tightly. The boy giggled and squirmed a bit before looking back towards his brother._

" _He's got papa's smile! And dark hair, like you and mama!" Fíli spoke energetically, but his face fell after a few moments._

" _He doesn't have anything of mine," the boy whined, and Thorin tugged him close._

" _That's not true Fíli. I'm sure he has your heart," The King whispered. Fíli thought about his uncle's words, reaching out a hand to place it on Kíli's tiny chest. It rose and fell much quicker than he expected, but when he pressed his ear there he could hear it, a steady heartbeat that sounded alongside his own. Fíli grinned and pulled away, tugging his baby brother's blankets tighter around him while Thorin watched. The blonde child pressed his nose against Kíli's soft one, and kissed him innocently._

" _I'll protect you always Kíli," he promised, and Thorin vowed to do the same, for both of his beloved nephews, to the best of his ability._

_ _

* * *

The sun was bright and warm on his face as the Prince awoke that morning. He squinted and threw an arm across his eyes, heaving a long drawn out yawn. His body ached, as though he'd been walking the desert lands for several days, and he sat up gingerly and looked around. His room was in complete chaos. Broken glass lay strewn about the carpets and his possessions were spread across the floor. His wardrobe was in pieces and the clothing that usually hung so neatly inside was crumpled in messy piles on the ground. The curtains hung off the rod, draped mostly across the carpet instead of the window, allowing the brilliant rays of the sun to stream into his room.

Fíli groaned as he shifted, his feet catching on the sheets and throbbing in pain. Tiny shards of glass were embedded in his soles and between his toes and he chuckled as he remembered why. The Prince began the tedious process of plucking the slivers from his skin while his eyes wandered to the man that slept soundly beside him. His exquisite dancer was sprawled seductively across the bed beside him, breathing softly, looking every bit as wonderful as he had the night before. Remarkably, the moonflower still clung within the messy strands of hair, though its petals had closed back up into a lovely star shape sometime in the morning.

When Fíli pulled the last piece of glass from his skin he peered down and wiped away the remaining blood carefully. It stung, but it was worth it. He grinned and fell back on the bed, turning to watch Kíli's relaxed face. Fíli kissed the other man's nose then pressed a tiny peck to his lips, his hand reaching out to caress the soft skin of Kíli's cheek. Even with the threat of oncoming war the Prince felt incredible. He felt alive, full of energy.

Fíli dragged his nose along Kíli's skin, and down his neck, before he sucked at it teasingly. The dancer stirred, just a little, a soft groan sounding deep in his throat, and the Prince began to kiss along his shoulder and down the side of his body. He reached the other man's hip, and stayed there, nibbling and licking the silky skin as one of his hands reached up under Kíli's golden belts. Kíli's eyes opened and he stretched with a smile as the Prince gripped his ass in a tight squeeze. Fíli opened his eyes and dragged his hand around beneath the many chains, pausing only when a small pendant fell from them to the bedding. The Prince's eyes followed the movement, widening in recognition and he pulled it up in a tight grip and roes from the bed in surprise.

"Where did you get this?" Fíli hissed, running his thumb across the familiar symbols.

"Hmm?" Kíli mumbled, his eyes slowly growing accustomed to the morning sun. Fíli faced him with a dark gaze, holding the pendant out towards him.

"Where did you get this?" the Prince asked again, his voice growing increasingly louder. Kíli blinked at the shiny object and sat up with a gasp, glancing frighteningly between it and the Prince. He couldn't speak, couldn't explain, and instead just stared blankly at the other man while the tension between them steadily grew. Fíli practically growled as he stood from the bed, kicking something on the floor away.

"Did you steal it?" he sneered, and Kíli recoiled. Never had he heard such anger in the Prince's voice, not even when he'd betrayed him and attacked him in these very same rooms.

"No!" Kíli shouted, tugging his feet closer to his body and moving to kneel on the sheets.

"It is mine! I've always had it, I swear it!" Kíli promised, and he attempted to move closer, reaching a hand out to the other man. Fíli stepped away, his eyes alight with rage.

"Don't lie to me!" He shouted, his chest heaving as he stared the dancer down.

"I'm not lying!" Kíli insisted, clenching his fingers tightly in the blankets, his eyes just as wild. Fíli frowned at him, and turned away, clenching the pendant in his fingers before he moved and began to get dressed. He didn't know what to think. Fíli's hands were shaking as he scrambled to find a shirt on the floor and his heart sank as he realised what he'd done. He'd slept with his little brother, took his virginity even. Kíli swallowed nervously as he watched the other man clasp his belts, the cutlass dangling dangerously from his side.

"Please, Fíli, I tried to tell you," Kíli whispered, as the other man pulled a shirt over his broad shoulders then began shuffling through the fabrics strewn about his room.

"I've…," Fíli started, running a hand through his hair, and then he stood in surprise and looked towards the man on the bed.

"Wait…you knew?" he asked heatedly, staring at Kíli in disbelief. The dancer trembled nervously beneath his heavy gaze and Fíli started to shake.

"I've lain with you!" he shouted, throwing his hands out at his sides. Kíli flinched, as tears filled his eyes.

"You knew and still you…you let me have you. Why did you not tell me? Are you a spy?" Fíli asked quickly, as he wrapped his wrinkled cloak around his shoulders.

"No!" Kíli cried desperately. His mind was in shambles. He should have been more careful, kept the pendant hidden. No…he should have told the Prince as soon as he discovered such information! Dwalin was right about him, he was a coward!

"I haven't known that long…I only just," Kíli stuttered, his eyes stinging from the salty tears pooling across them.

"You've known long enough!" Fíli bellowed, silencing the other man in a heartbeat.

"You knew last night when you sat upon this bed in nearly nothing!" The Prince yelled, and Kíli looked down as tears leaked from his eyes. The two remained in dead silence for several minutes, and then Fíli bent to lift his crown from the ground angrily. Kíli watched him place it on his hair before the other man rushed from the room.

"Fíli! Please! Wait!" Kíli begged, but the door slammed and he was left alone in the Prince's chambers. His hands opened and closed in the sheets, and he choked on a sob as he fell forwards onto the bed.

"Please," he whispered woefully, his shoulders shaking as tears ran down his face.

* * *

Guards watched worriedly as the crown Prince rushed down the hallways in the palace. Never had they seen him quite so upset, quite so obviously disturbed. His brow was set in a serious frown, and his feet pounded on the stone floors heavily, his cloaks billowing behind his form. Twice he walked halfway down a hallway before turning in the opposite direction, hand pressing against his brow. He was so torn. He wanted to go back, apologize for shouting at Kíli. He wanted to take him in his arms and welcome his little brother properly home. But then he remembered. They'd…made love, and it was perfect, and wonderful, but now…impossible. The thing that frightened him most was how much he still wanted to embrace the other man, kiss him, ravish him. He loved him, more than anything. His heart throbbed painfully as he walked slowly down the hall. He looked every bit like the King after a frustrating day.

Balin had just stepped from his study, as the Prince approached and he reached out to touch the other man's arm worriedly.

"Fíli…what's wrong?" the advisor asked, his gaze catching the Prince's and narrowing. He glanced down the hallway then tugged on the young man's arm, pulling him inside his study and urging him to sit. Fíli sagged into his chair while Balin pulled up another and looked at him patiently. The young Prince stared blankly ahead for a moment, and then growled, before he slumped forwards and clenched his hands in his hair.

"He's my brother," Fíli whispered, and Balin raised an eyebrow at him. Fíli looked up and sighed heavily.

"Kíli, he's actually…my brother," the Prince muttered, rubbing his brow with one of his hands.

"How do you know?" Balin asked gently and the Prince held out the pendant to him.

"He was wearing this," Fíli spoke, allowing the other man to take the necklace from his hand. Balin pushed his glasses up and pulled the necklace close to his face, reading the inscriptions with intelligent eyes.

"Thorin gave Kíli this, not long after he was born, I remember," the Prince explained as Balin turned it over to look at the insignia. Fíli waited expectantly for the other man's opinion, but the advisor merely raised his brow slightly.

"Wow," he murmured, continuing to observe the pendant before he handed it back.

"That's it, just wow?" Fíli asked, clenching the chain tightly.

"I don't really understand what the problem is," Balin admitted, sitting back comfortably in his chair.

"He's my brother," Fíli repeated.

"Are you…upset by this? Shouldn't you be happy? The lost Prince has found his way home again," Balin questioned, and Fíli shuffled uneasily in his seat.

"But…I…I love him, I've…we…," he stuttered and the advisor's expression softened.

"And does he love you?" Balin asked, watching as different emotions crossed the other man's face.

"I…do not know," Fíli whispered, and Balin chuckled lightly.

"Then you are a fool," he spoke easily, crossing his arms against his chest. Durins never failed to amuse. They were kind at heart, strong-willed and fierce when they made decisions. And yet, sometimes, they were so blind, unable to see something right before their eyes, clear to anyone that chose to look. Fíli gaped at him in surprise while the older man continued to laugh quietly, rubbing a hand through his long beard.

"You have a good heart Fíli, you have always been able to judge well," The advisor insisted, looking over his glasses, into the Prince's eyes.

"What is your heart telling you now?" he asked, and Fíli stared at him before lowering his gaze slowly. He recalled each and every moment spent in Kíli's company, the way the other man looked at him, placed his trust in him. The sacrifice he made to protect both Dwalin and him in the city core. And of course there were the words spoken in the fountain, words of love. Fíli remembered the tormented look on Kíli's face when he'd discovered the pendant in his hands, a fear, like no other, as though he was about to lose everything.

"That he loves me," Fíli whispered and Balin clasped his hands together between them.

"Then there is no wrong. Keep it secret my Prince, and no one shall be the wiser," he advised and Fíli played nervously with the chain between his fingers.

"You…won't tell my uncle? Or mother?" he questioned, a hint of desperation audible in his voice.

"The happiness of my kin is more important than anything else. I think you will find it is the same for our King as well as your mother," Balin claimed, and Fíli looked down towards the ground again. It was obvious he still struggled with the thought of feeling such emotions for his own brother.

"You gave him a name, when you first met. What name was that?" Balin asked as he moved to stand.

"My brother's name," Fíli affirmed.

"Perhaps you knew, even then, but were too afraid to believe. Love, my boy, it's a mysterious but wonderful thing, and best not wasted," Balin declared, patting the Prince on his shoulder. The advisor walked forward and reached to open his door, leaving Fíli sitting in the small room.

"Balin, thank you," the Prince's voice followed him as he left the room, and Balin smiled as he shut the door.

* * *

It took Kíli quite some time to compose himself enough to even move from the bed. He walked gingerly across the rich carpets, jolting occasionally as his feet stepped on broken glass. He was shaky and unfocused, and the occasional sob shook his frame. Kíli figured he must look absolutely dreadful, red-faced and blotchy. His hair was still an utter mess, along with the rest of his body from the night prior. He needed a bath, to immerse his entire form in water and wash away his worries. Though he doubted very much that was even possible.

Kíli pulled on what little clothing he could find, draping it haphazardly across his legs and shoulders, before leaving the Prince's chambers. No guards stood outside, curiously absent from their usual posts, and Kíli was grateful he need not look quite so shameful in front of anyone else. He hurried through the halls, trying to find his way to the baths without crossing another person's path, taking the longer but more vacant route.

Kíli wiped at his eyes, walking alone for the first time since he'd stepped foot in Erebor. He stopped at the end of a hallway and leaned against the cool wall. He'd walked much further than he thought, and the area was unfamiliar to him. He'd spent so much time in the company of others, following behind where other men led, that now, in the long halls he felt incredibly lost. Without even the surrounding chatter of palace residents Kíli found his mind wandering to dreadful thoughts, and he collapsed against the stone floor as his body shook with wretched cries.

His heart ached painfully as he thought about the man he'd grown to love so deeply. So long Kíli had dreamt of having a family to call his own. And yet now, he would give it all up, if it meant spending a lifetime with Fíli as his lover. But now he had ruined everything. Not only had he lost his lover, but also his brother. The Prince hated him, thought him a liar, and his disgust at the thought of their joining was so very apparent in his blue eyes.

Kíli stiffened as he heard quiet tapping approaching quickly down the hall. He stood, looking intently ahead, but no one was there. Still, the sound grew louder, and closer, and he shivered as it stopped not far away. He assured himself of his safety, after all, Dwalin had increased the number of guards at the palace gates several times as more attacks occurred. Not a soul could have entered undetected.

He swallowed thickly and struggled to calm his erratically beating heart, but it skipped as a drop of cool liquid landed on his shoulder. Kíli glanced at it in fear, then slowly turned his gaze above, his eyes widening exponentially as he looked into a gleaming decaying grin.

"Remember me?" the creature hissed, and Kíli ran, not wasting a moment of time. He slammed into the opposite wall, and steadied himself quickly, taking off down the hallway as fast as he could manage. He spared a glance backwards and nearly shrieked as the creature skittered across the passage on all fours after him. Its teeth were bared in a manic grin, and a terrifying laugh sounded as the thing chased after him. It was unmistakably the same monster that had threatened him in his rooms.

Kíli panted as he tried to figure out how it had breached the walls again, his heart racing as the clicking on the stone grew nearer. The dancer glanced back again quickly, taking in the grey, flaky texture of its skin, and the ragged cloak that hung from its body, and the way it clung to the ceiling easily. Of course! It had never even left the palace at all! Something so vile, and clearly half dead, would have easily been able to hide in dark crevices and corners within the walls.

He turned a corner, wider than he wanted, and flailed his arms into the walls for support, but the wraith caught him. It jumped on his body and Kíli fell to the ground with a cry, scratching with all his might at whatever he could reach. His nails came back caked with dirt, and the thing just laughed and smiled as it pressed him into the ground. Kíli flung his body up, and shoved it into the wall, as he slid backwards on his hands and knees. It shook its head then turned to him, crunching its body down and crawling towards him, and the two grappled against each other wildly.

Kíli pushed its face away even as sharp claws caught in an earring and pulled. The trinket tore from his ear and he screamed in pain, then struggled fiercely as golden jewels were ripped from his shawl. He fought with all his might, calling out for help in the empty halls, but the creature was mad with violence, and it threw him into the ground hard, slamming his head into the stone. Kíli dropped like a fly, unconscious, and his body went limp in the revolting clawed hands.

* * *

The scribe stormed through the palace, his eldest brother hot on his tail. He loved them dearly, but someone had slipped his secret to Nori, and now Dori had not stopped lecturing him for a moment since. It was driving him to madness!

"He's not good enough for you. He's violent, dumber than a brick, probably can't even read!" the apothecary insisted, shaking his hands and scolding the younger man in a stern voice. Ori seethed. Dwalin may not have been the most intellectually inclined, but he was a good man, a loyal man. He was strong, and surprisingly gentle. The scribe blushed as he recalled the tender kisses shared in hidden corners of the palace. And of course…sometimes things got a bit heated. He nearly forgot about his brother's presence as he thought about the tall guard's arms around him, then his frustration returned tenfold as Dori's voice penetrated his ears.

"I refuse to allow you to indulge in relations that have no future!" the older man shouted and Ori stormed away from him, his fists clenched at his sides.

"It's my choice! I'm old enough! You can't keep-," Ori stopped suddenly as he spotted something on the floor. His brother stood behind him, nattering away, while Ori bent to pick up the jewel. It was one of Kíli's snake earrings! And there was blood on it! The scribe quickly glanced around the surrounding area, even as his brother continued to reprimand him, and he gasped as his eyes saw traces of blood on the ground as well as several golden charms from the other man's shawl.

"Are you listening? What, what is it?" Dori asked after his brother fell to the floor to examine the stone. The scribe held up the earring so the other man could see.

"This…this is Kíli's earring. And look, there's blood all over the stone here!" Ori gasped and Dori peered owlishly at the red substance strewn about.

"Find Fíli!" Ori shouted, taking off at a run, and Dori huffed but hurried in the opposite direction.

* * *

The members of the court sat around a table sombrely as they had for many days now, discussing their options. Bifur explained the progress he'd made, or rather Bofur explained for him, dabbling in objects that may give them cover, as well as the ability to negate some dark magic. He could turn lesser undead creatures into mortal beings, depending on the size and strength of the spell on them. It would at the very least give Thorin's army a fighting chance against the many small wraith-like creatures Nori had described. They sat stiffly, waiting for the response from neighbouring Kingdoms.

Fíli was tense and on edge, worrying about his brother, his beautiful dancer, and the state he'd left the other man in back in his rooms. The Prince had rushed back immediately after speaking with Balin, but Kíli was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't in the baths, or the gardens, nor was he out in the stables. The guards at the front gates had not seen him pass through, and the one Fíli asked to escort the other man was gone from outside his rooms, so he figured Kíli was at the very least, not alone. But still he worried, he wanted to speak with him, apologize for reacting so poorly, for causing Kíli to cry. Unfortunately he'd been summoned to join the court not long into his search.

The room fell silent as a loud squawk sounded from above, and Sanbaghud flew in the open slot in the ceiling and circled twice, before landing on Bofur's shoulder and flapping her wings. Several scrolls were tied to her legs, and as Bofur pulled the one slotted between her beak, the osprey began pecking at his neck for food. The tamer tossed her a few bites from a pocket then tore through the various messages, his eyes scanning the words quickly. He sighed heavily, tossing the notes across the table.

"Not one Kingdom has agreed to aid us, and the Iron Kingdom sent no response at all," Bofur drawled, slouching back in his chair. Balin snatched up the notes and scanned them over as well, while the others muttered amongst themselves.

"It seems we face this enemy alone," the advisor muttered, and Thorin sighed and rubbed at his closed eyes. So often Erebor offered aid to other Kingdoms in need, and yet, when such a foe was at their doors, no one came to help. He understood, the journey was far for many of the Kingdoms, and he could not forsake them for making such a choice. However, he had hoped the Iron Kingdom to the East would as least answer their plea.

"What should we do brother?" Dís asked worriedly. For many moments the King did not respond, remaining hunched over the table as he eyed the broken seals on the many letters strewn about. He wondered briefly if Thranduil would have put their differences aside to help in such a situation, if he would have sent an army to cross the dry desert land, as Thorin had many weeks ago. Thorin had little choice. The longer they waited, the stronger their enemy grew.

"Ready the armies. Bifur, gather your trinkets and distribute them, we'll plan to march three nights from now, after the sun sets beyond the hills. Perhaps the cover of darkness will aid us in our travel north. And Gandalf, I trust you have our approach covered?"

"Of course," the wizard assured him, grinning knowingly. Balin pulled out a map and they began discussing their plans thoroughly. Bofur was describing the land and pointing to a specific area on the map when the doors flew open and two men hurried through them. Ori nearly knocked the war plan from the table as he slammed his hands down on the ornate wood. The scribe was panting for breath and Thorin eyed him in surprise.

"He's gone," Ori wheezed, and the counsel eyed him in anticipation. Balin stood and offered him a chair, and the scribe collapsed in it in near tears.

"Kíli, he's gone," Dori explained for his brother and Fíli stood from the table in a rush, knocking his chair over.

"He ran away?" Fíli asked, eyes wide with worry. The guilt was audible in his voice and Balin spared him a quick glance.

"No! There's…there's blood, on the stone in the northern halls, he was taken," Ori spoke, and he held out the snake earring to the Prince. Fíli swiped it from his grasp then looked towards his uncle desperately. The Prince felt even worse, knowing his beloved had been taken, harmed, and he wiped at the drying blood with a shaky finger.

"Oh by the Valar, I promised to protect him," Fíli whispered, and Thorin frowned at him.

"How did one of them breach the walls again, Dwalin has extra men at every post. Each entrance is guarded constantly," Thorin muttered in frustration and the guard appeared to be trying to burn a hole in the table with his gaze. The King had thought his palace safe. But Kíli had been stolen again! And now, security was even more imperative, with so many children living within the walls, and of course Bilbo. Thorin growled and slammed a fist into the wooden table.

"Dwalin, gather up the children and the rest of the palace staff in the throne room, make sure they are safe. If one wraith has made its way inside, there could be more," Thorin commanded, and the soldier stood and stormed away. The Prince was squeezing the earring so tight in his hand, his fingers began to turn white, and Dís turned to embrace her son.

"Fíli, it will be alright, we'll get him back," she promised, looking towards her brother for confirmation. Thorin nodded and addressed the room.

"We'll go after him, forget the plans, we march now," The King ordered, rolling up the parchment on the table and tossing it to the side. The men rose, Bofur's osprey taking flight and flying out the roof. Then each of them left to make hasty preparations, while Thorin turned to his nephew and placed a hand on his shoulder. Fíli was trembling, a sea of emotions passing over his face.

"Uncle…I…he's…he's my brother," Fíli whispered, and he pulled the pendant from his satchel and wound it around the golden snake.

"Yes…I know," Thorin uttered, raising his eyes to look at his sister, and Fíli looked between the two in surprise. He spent little time contemplating the discovery, instead focusing on the current situation.

"I need to get him back, I can't lose him again!" Fíli shouted desperately, and Thorin pulled him close and held their brows together.

"We will," The King spoke, urging his nephew to calm down. They would have to be calm and focused if they meant to defeat their enemy. Thorin pulled Fíli into a tight embrace before he began moving from the room.

"There's…there's something else," Fíli called out from behind and Thorin turned to look at him, bracing himself on the door frame.

"What, what is it?" he asked, as the Prince looked down with realisation.

"He has the Arkenstone," Fíli whispered under his breath, and he heard his mother gasp from the side. Thorin said nothing for a moment, and then his deep timber shook the walls of the room as he shouted roughly.

"What!?"

* * *

The ground was surprisingly cold as Kíli regained consciousness. He shivered and blinked, his face pressed into hardened dirt. His head throbbed horrendously and he groaned and reached his hands up to rub at the back of his skull. He staggered to his hands and knees, fingers digging into the dirt, and paused as his foot dragged up along an irregular shape. Kíli glanced to the side and gasped, shuffling back, only to land with a crunch in a pile of bones. Skeletons were everywhere, and he kicked them away from his body frantically.

The dancer shivered, looking about the dark room, his heart skipping as he realized another figure stood in the room with him. Kíli's eyes widened as he watched the obscure shadowy shape move and approach, bones crunching beneath its feet. Slowly its face came into view, ugly and dried, much like the wraith that attacked him in the palace. But this thing's eyes were far more aware, far more focused, and somehow that was incredibly frightening. It laughed languidly, a loud guttural sound that reverberated off the curved walls of the tiny cavern.

"I have to thank you, for sending me this lovely bit of information," it spoke, and bent down to Kíli's level, holding a tiny scrap of paper. Kíli gulped as he recognized his own scrawl, and the familiar words scribbled across the crumpled parchment. It served only to remind him of the Prince, and his betrayal. Kíli flinched as the creature's claws reached out to grasp his chin, pulling his face close, and he gagged as a sickening smell flooded his nose and desperately tried to tug away from the bruising grip. Kíli knew who this was. Azog. He'd heard others in the palace speaking of him, of his rebirth, how he was back from the dead.

"Thanks to you, I have almost everything I require. Now I need only wait for the Prince to stroll along, Arkenstone in hand," Azog hissed, and then he threw the dancer to the ground. Kíli coughed on the ground, and tried not to glance down at the chain that hung from his neck. He had to keep it safe, at all costs. Kíli refused to fail the one he loved yet again, to betray him yet again. He found his courage, and controlled the renewed pain in his head, turning towards Azog with a sneer.

"He won't come alone, an army will follow and your men will die," Kíli sneered, in a surprisingly steady voice. Azog widened his eyes and threw back his head, laughing long and loud. Kíli inched away, flinching occasionally as he brushed up against bones and other mysterious objects in the room. Azog continued to chuckle, and he bared his pointed teeth in a disgusting smile.

"I care little for my men, they are all expendable," he jeered, waving a claw around flippantly. Kíli observed that the elongated nails were just as yellow as his teeth, and just as caked with dirt as the rest of his body.

"He won't give you the Arkenstone!" Kíli shouted, backing into the wall, and leaning against it. He wanted to be as far away from that thing, as possible. Azog watched him with humour in his eyes.

"Oh, I think he will. Love is such a weak emotion," he drawled, and then he lifted an arm and spread out his fingers.

"Srinkh, bûrgulu-izub!" He grated, his voice catching gutturally in his throat as thick globs of saliva slipped past his teeth. And Kíli watched, terrified, as smoke lifted from the soil, and the bones around him took shape and slithered towards their commander. The skeletons jerked and writhed under his control, as flesh formed around their wretched bodies. Kíli's eyes widened as he realised they were snakes, and he flinched as every single one turned to look in his direction. Their eyes blazed a frightening red colour, and as they slithered across the ground, pieces fell from their bodies in chunks. There must have been at least fifty of them, and Kíli pressed his body flat against the dirt wall behind him.

"Beautiful, aren't they? My faithful servant tells me you like to dance with snakes, I believe you met him, Ash. I'm afraid he has a bit of a thirst for blood," Azog drawled, and Kíli recalled the terrible gouge in Dwalin's arm after their encounter with the wraith in the streets. Azog flicked his wrist, and the serpents began to approach, hissing violently. Kíli panicked, sliding across the ground, and tripping over loose rocks as he huddled into the farthest corner. Azog laughed at him and eyed him with a leer.

"Tell me, can you charm them all?" The beast hissed and his raucous laughter sounded throughout the cavern.

* * *

Erebor's army rallied outside the palace while Thorin met with his counsel in the throne room. He looked at the children and workers gathered in fright and knew they could not remain behind unprotected. If one wraith managed to breach the walls, there could be more already within the palace, waiting for the right time.

"Balin, Dwalin, I need someone to stay behind with a group of soldiers. Protect the children, keep the palace safe," Thorin commanded, and the brothers nodded and moved to gather the men they required. Bilbo approached from the side, a sleeping child cradled in his arms, and Thorin's eyes softened at the smaller man.

"Can I not help somehow?" the jeweller asked, but Thorin shook his head.

"Stay here, the children need you. Be safe," he ordered gently, then leaned forwards to press a kiss above his ear.

"And be here when I return," Thorin whispered to the other man, before pulling away and turning to his sister.

"Dís, stay as well," the King commanded, but his sister glared at him and crossed her arms angrily. She stood battle ready, dressed in the same billowing pants the rest of the soldiers wore about their hips. Her hair was tied back in a severe braid and several weapons clinked about her waist while she gripped a long spear in her hand.

"You're a fool if you think I won't go after my son, especially since I cannot trust you to do the same, not while your precious stone is at risk," she hissed. Thorin's eyes widened slightly at the accusation and he struggled to respond. The words struck painfully. It was true he was greatly worried about the Arkenstone falling into the wrong hands, but he cared deeply for his nephew and would do anything in his power to get him back.

"Dís …I," Thorin stumbled over his words uncharacteristically, and his sister turned her back to him, leading the way out the front gates.

"Let's go, the longer we stand here, the more likely my son is harmed," she spoke fiercely, loosening her scarves and tightening the heavy belt that hung from her waist.

"We'll need that blasted wizard, someone fetch Gandalf," Thorin commanded, but as he stepped outside the wizard stood directly before him, ready to go.

"Why, I'm right here Thorin," Gandalf said with a smile, and the King's eyes widened as they travelled to the army of birds that frolicked about behind the tall man. They were huge and had feathers of the purest white the King had ever laid eyes on.

"Varda's Theryn !" Bofur gasped, moving forward to examine the gigantic beasts. He ran his fingers through the soft plumage and rushed about them, looking from every angle.

"I thought them a legend!" the tamer whispered as the bird he stood next to stretched out its wings, exposing the delicate feathers spread in a line. They sparkled under the setting sun, and glittered just as the stars amongst the skies.

"Ah, yes, a legend, just like Erebor's beloved Arkenstone. There are many secrets in Šebeth. Did you think your gods were the only Valar to walk these lands?" Gandalf asked with a mysterious twinkle in his eyes. The King composed himself, and turned to the awestruck men and women around him. His army seemed sceptical about even approaching the animals, leaving a wide birth between their bodies and the creatures before them. Thorin frowned as he glimpsed their sweating faces. If Dwalin stood beside him, the soldier would tear the army apart for daring to tremble in the face of a bird, no matter how powerful.

"Soldiers! You cower in the face of such legendary beasts, and yet you expect to fight a war?" Thorin bellowed, drawing the attention of his army in a heartbeat. The soldiers lowered their heads in shame and looked at each other sheepishly.

"Our enemy is heartless. The undead soldiers care little for your pitiful, worried minds. We cannot afford to show a hint of fear. Stand tall, stand confident, we must be unwavering in the face of death! This is what you have trained for, worked years for. Think of your families, your people, the Kingdom you fight to protect," the King shouted, and his men straightened and shouted out to the skies.

"Mahmazar!" The soldiers yelled, raising fists into the air. Thorin's eyes blazed with pride and he shook his own fist heartily as he moved down the steps towards the army of Theryn and men.

"Tonight we fly amongst the Valar! What is there to fear?" He cried out to the skies, and his men cheered with him and approached the birds with renewed daring.

"Let's go," Thorin uttered, and at his heavy command, the army mounted up and flew into the sky.

* * *

The plains moved rapidly beneath the flapping wings of the great white creatures. Several men gripped the backs of each bird, holding on for dear life as the wind swept through their hair and coverings. In truth it was exhilarating. The Theryn held such power in their wide wing spans and the men felt it with each flap of their wings. Thorin's beast flew up next to the wizard as they approached the desolate lands of the North, and from the skies, the King could see a large rune etched into the sand outlined by rocks and rubble. Not a single form was visible on the widespread barren land. It seemed Nori had spoken the truth when he mentioned an underground lair.

"Are you sure they cannot detect us?" Thorin asked the wizard as the birds circled above their target.

"The Theryn are incredibly gifted creatures Thorin. From below, I assure you, we appear as nothing more than the night's sky, the gift of the Goddess Varda," the wizard spoke. Thorin waved a few of the beasts towards him which carried some of his counsel before explaining their approach.

"Nori, you'll drop down with Bofur and Fíli, and search out further entrances, cloaked by one of Bifur's enchantments," Thorin commanded, and the three men struggled to mount the same animal. Bofur glanced fearfully at the ground far below as he jumped to the bird gliding beneath his. He laughed and rolled into the thief, and Nori shoved him away with an annoyed grunt. Bifur began to wave his hands in a complex motion while he murmured and chanted.

"I don't feel any different, are you sure this is working?" Nori asked and the warlock glared at him.

"Don't worry, it's working," Bofur reassured him, as Bifur lowered his hands to finish the spell.

"It won't last forever, be quick as you can, and try to locate Kíli in the tunnels. We'll land as you enter, and draw as much of their army to us as possible," Thorin explained in a steady voice.

"Mark the entrances you find with these," Dori insisted, dropping a pouch into his brother's hands, and the thief pulled out several tiny red globes. When he twisted the objects in his hands they lit up with a brilliant flame. Nori tossed the bag to Bofur and the eagle flapped its wings and began the descent. Thorin nodded at his nephew and Dís watched teary-eyed as her son grew smaller while the Thoron flew towards the desolate ground.

The creature landed, surprisingly gracefully considering its size, and Nori jumped from its broad back into the sand below quickly. The Prince and tamer followed behind as he searched the rocks for familiar etchings. His fingers dragged through the sand, scratching at markings as he moved wraith-like across the land. Nori stopped suddenly, Bofur running into his back while the Prince stood off to the side. The thief glared at the tamer then signalled to remove one of the orbs. Bofur tossed it to him and Nori twisted it and slammed it in the ground before moving again.

The trio continued for nearly twenty minutes, splitting up once they all knew what to look for, and finding a total of nine possible entries and exits. Bofur signalled that they were done, and the three moved to the northernmost entrance to begin their search for the missing dancer. Just as Nori pushed the tiny niche in the stone down, and the three men jumped into the dark passage, the army descended, heavy flaps sounding in the air and loud thumps pounding the ground as the large birds landed in the sand. And the ground shook.

Sand slunk down into the tunnels as several of the entrances opened and shadows rose from within. Thorin signalled the army to split up into several formations as wraiths poured from the ground. Dori threw a bunch of tiny balls onto the dry sand, thick deep green smoke billowing out from the spheres. The apothecary ran along with Bifur to each of the entrances, taking care not to be seen by the wraiths as they tossed more of the objects down the open tunnels. The creatures that climbed from the channels crawled in masses towards them, ignoring the smoke and rushing in the direction of the men.

The army stood ready, refusing to tremble at the quaking of the earth and the sight of their enemy billowing across the ground towards them. As the wraiths approached, the King pulled his long sabre from its scabbard, the metal glinting under the light of the moon. His soldiers followed the motion, raising bows to aim, and pulling out a wide array of blades, the sound of clinking metal echoing across the plain. Dís raised a heavy spear over her shoulder and threw out her arm to aim, while her brow lowered in determination.

"Enough of this waiting!" she yelled, a loud groan leaving her throat as she hurled the spear hard into distance, right into the chest of one of the dark creatures. It screeched and writhed on the ground and the soldiers gasped as it fell to the sand and scratched at its own body.

"They bleed!" one of the men shouted in excitement, and several of the soldiers released arrows into the mass of creatures, cheering as they fell and thrashed when hit.

"It's working!" Thorin whispered and the warlock and apothecary huffed as they stood at the King's side.

"You doubted us?" Dori asked, raising his brow and Thorin smirked, then his eyes widened as his sister stormed from his side, charging into the sea of creatures as she pulled tiny daggers from her belts.

"Dís!" Thorin cried out after her, and then he sighed and followed in her stead swiping at every creature he ran by. His army marched beside him, battling atop the dry land furiously.

* * *

Nori led the other two men through the tunnels best he could. They were unfamiliar to him, a completely different set of winding pathways than the ones he'd travelled through previously. They flattened against the walls as dirt fell from the shaking of the earth and hoped the dark creatures were occupied elsewhere. However their cover was short-lived, as they felt the spell fading from them, and almost immediately, a small group of shadowy ghouls gathered at the end of the tunnel they moved through.

The three men stalled, and Bofur pulled one of the dark grey spheres from his pouch and threw it down the dirt path. The shadows charged at them, running straight through the green smoke, and Fíli pulled two long cutlasses from his scabbards and braced for the attack. The Prince swung wildly, Bofur flattening his body to the ground as the other man cut through the shadows around them. And Nori threw daggers into the group as the tamer pulled a long scimitar from his back. They easily tore apart the tiny creatures, moving quickly down the tunnel. At the end, Nori took off towards the left, the other two men following behind with blades in hand.

This time their enemy came from behind, and Bofur tossed another sphere back into them. There were two wraiths, larger than before, that crawled awkwardly along the walls, the elongated limbs folding at unusual angles as claws scraped across the dirt. Nori threw a knife into the head of one, and its body split, then immediately sealed back together again. The three men gaped, their weapons hanging loosely from their fingers.

"It doesn't work on these ones!" Bofur shouted, urging them to move away.

"The magic must be too dark, hurry, run!" he insisted, and they started tearing through the tunnels madly. Nori led the way again, skipping across grooves and taking turns at random. Then Bofur ran right into his back as he bent to the ground and stopped.

"Nori, what the hell are you doing? We have to move!" the tamer hissed, but the other man just brushed his fingers across a symbol on the wall.

"I left this mark here! I know where we are now," Nori spoke excitedly, turning to gesture the others to follow. He stopped again not far away, touching yet another mark on the wall.

"Is that…a fang?" Bofur asked, peering closely at the triangular shape and eyeing the thief curiously.

"Shut up! Follow me," Nori spat, ignoring the tamer's smug smile, and they ran until they reached a crossroads. The three panted and Nori pulled the Prince towards him and pointed down the tunnel to their right.

"Fíli, go that way, turn right at the end of the hall, then right again. I'm betting Kíli's in the room beyond! We'll draw them away best we can," the thief explained and Fíli was off, his blade in hand and a determined look on his face. Nori turned, peering around the corner carefully only to draw back in shock as a ghostly claw reached out towards him, a long piece of sharp bone thrusting out of its palm. Bofur threw him down on the ground, twisting his blade towards it and pushing the thing off to the side. Then he was grabbing the thief's scarves and tugging him down another tunnel as both creatures turned to follow.

"You nearly lost your other eye!" Bofur chided, tugging the thief close and observing his shaken demeanour. Nori glanced behind them with wide eyes at the approaching forms.

"How are we supposed to kill shadows?" he whispered under his breath and Bofur let him go, searching his pack hysterically.

"Whatever you're looking for…hurry…hurry!" Nori hissed from his side. Finally Bofur pulled a scroll of parchment, quickly unravelling it and throwing it against the ground.

"Athhôrumun! Uzndashûh!" The tamer shouted, and Nori gasped as a thick cloud of smoke rose from the paper and a flock of shadowy crows flew from it and down the tunnel. The sound of flapping wings was loud in the tiny space and the shadows screeched and tore at each other, the birds managing to overthrow the other creatures.

"Hah! We fight shadows, with shadows, my lovely thief," Bofur spoke, backing away and grabbing Nori by the front of his tunic. The thief growled at him disdainfully, but then continued running through the channels. Their feet hammered against the soil, as the earth above them shook from the fighting above. Nori glanced up at the crumbling dirt, swallowing as the land trembled menacingly, momentarily forgetting to watch his feet. And in that moment he felt his foot slip into a niche, and the ground shifted slightly beneath it. Nori's eyes widened and he wrenched Bofur back, throwing the other man's body to the ground.

"Get down!" Nori shouted, as the walls crumbled and spikes shot out from within them. Bofur yelled as his body hit the dirt, and his eyes widened as the sharp spears stabbed the air above his body. Nori twisted his limbs awkwardly around the jagged points, just barely managing to manoeuvre between them. His hands clung to two spikes, one foot braced on the wall, as the other hung between several, and a tiny scrape seared across his thigh.

"Shit!" Nori seethed, glancing down the tunnel then towards the tamer on the ground.

"Are you okay? I forgot about the traps!" he asked, and Bofur kicked his legs up, breaking some of the spikes above him. They crumbled and snapped and he ripped a few from the walls with his hands.

"Been better," Bofur grunted, coughing heavily, and he managed to clear enough space to sit as he examined the white points closely.

"They're made from bone," he whispered, turning to watch as Nori slunk down beside him. The thief breathed in deep and dabbed at the wound on his leg ignoring Bofur's worried glances, and then he reached into his hidden pockets and pulled out a tiny cube.

"What's that?" Bofur asked, watching as tiny markings lit up on each side. Nori split it in half, and then tossed one part down the tunnel, sitting back and placing the remainder on the ground between them.

"It'll let us see around corners," he spoke calmly, watching as the image cleared before them.

"Where'd you get something like that?" Bofur asked apprehensively. He'd seen his fair share of magical items in Bifur's dungeon, as he liked to call it, but nothing that looked quite like this.

"I may or may not have stolen it," Nori hinted, a tiny smirk forming on his face and Bofur chuckled along with him. The thief bent, looking intently at the channels in his artefact. It seemed Bofur's birds had cleared away the other creatures fairly well but he could barely see something moving in the distance. His eyes narrowed and he leant even closer as he realised it was crawling across the top of the tunnel. But this one had shape; it looked like a man, sort of.

"What on earth is that?" Bofur asked, pulling the image towards his face. Both men gaped as manic laughter sounded through the tiny pathways and Nori shivered as chills tingled across his spine.

"Got anything else in there of use?" the thief whispered, and Bofur hastily shuffled around in his pack again.

"Of course, kick out more space," he spoke softly, pulling another scroll and placing it on the ground. Nori grunted as he knocked away several of the spikes, giving them fighting room. They were trapped and unable to move through the tunnel, spikes blocking the rest of the way. They would have to defeat their enemy where they were.

"Athhôrumun! Upndarûr!" Bofur chanted, and this time two growling tigers appeared from within the smoke. Nori fell back in surprise, as the giant cats struggled to fit in the confined space with them, heavy paws sliding across his form.

"My kitties," Bofur voiced, moving to greet both heartily before preparing his scimitar. The tigers hissed in the direction of the wraith, and Nori looked frightfully at the ceiling as skittering footsteps approached quickly. The laughter was menacing and Nori scrambled to pull out two knives as he slid out from under the cats and kicked more of the spikes away. And then he froze as heavy breathing sounded from above. The men and cats looked up as one into the glowing eyes of a wretched undead….thing.

"Oh Arômêz, save us," Nori sounded, inching back, then shouting as it fell towards him. Nadir turned, wrenching his teeth into the arm of the wraith, tearing flaking skin from its body. The creature barely noticed, reaching towards Nori and shoving sharp nails into his shoulder. He screamed, flinching back into the ground and shoving his knife into the side of the thing at random. Bofur sliced down across its head, watching as it crumbled and fell into dust on the ground. Nori coughed and gasped as the hand still tightened in his shoulder, tearing viciously at his flesh, and then flesh formed at the creature's shoulders, twisting and forming until two eyes and a grinning mouth appeared. It smiled, baring its pointed teeth and laughed in Nori's face before thick black smoke poured out into the thief's nostrils.

"What the…," Bofur trailed off, and then he dropped his scimitar and pulled at the creature's back instead. Nori kicked upwards, knocking the disgusting thing from his body while he coughed and Bofur threw it into the spikes across from them. It twitched and writhed on them, laughing all the while, and Nadir and Karida took the chance to attack. They pulled limbs from its body and nearly the entire creature fell to dust. Bofur rushed to the other man's side, pulling at the fabric of Nori's shirt.

"Let me see!" he urged, but Nori pushed him away and pressed fingers to his bleeding wound. He was shaking, and his thoughts were scrambled.

"Get off, I'm fine," the thief insisted, eyeing the dusty remains of the creature not far away. Already it was taking shape again, claws inching across the ground to join together with its decaying body. And when Nori blinked he could see other creatures crawling across the ground towards him. He looked towards the tamer and flinched at the sight. Bofur's eyes were blazing red, and he was ghoulish in form, decrepit just like the creature that had attacked them.

"You're hurt Nori, let me help," Bofur insisted, reaching forwards to grab the other man's arm, but Nori shrugged off his grip and pushed him away hard.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed as the tamer stumbled back, looking at him in shock.

"What's wrong with you?" Bofur asked. Nori drew into himself, pulling his scarf back around his shoulder. He walked closer to the spikes, standing as far away as he could manage while his eyes veered to the now visible yellow teeth of the wraith and back to the tamer.

"Why are you doing this now? I'm just trying to help! Can't you see I care about you?" Bofur insisted, throwing his bag to the ground while his tigers jumped between the two fighting men. The cats were torn between hissing at the wraith as it struggled to pull from the points, and standing at their master's side.

"Y-you, you're not Bofur. Stop lying! Get away!" Nori insisted, pressing his fist into his shoulder tightly and gripping the side of his head with his other hand. The tigers growled at him, vicious shadowy forms walking slowly towards him as they scratched at him with elongated claws.

"Get your beasts away from me!" He shouted quickly, stumbling across the dirt. Bofur eyed him in confusion, unsure what to say to such a statement. Nori slipped on the ground, looking around in fright as terrifying shapes took form before his eyes.

"Nori, you're not yourself, it's done something to you. Please, you need to calm down," the tamer pressed, sliding across the ground, his tigers at his knees.

"Get away from me!" Nori screamed, and his feet slipped across another smooth tile on the ground. The floor trembled and the thief raised his arms to his face as the ground exploded up in between them. Bofur flew to the ground, shouting at the impact, coughing at the smoke and groaning as one of his tigers landed on top of him. He heard Nori's shout of surprise, and the whimpering cries of a tiger, but he could barely see two feet in front of him. Spikes littered the ground beside him where they'd been knocked from the explosion. Bofur rolled onto his front, Karida sliding off of him and struggling to her feet. He was tired of getting thrown around so much in these blasted tunnels.

The tamer crawled forwards, until his fingers met with fur and he shook Nadir's body and urged him to get up. Soon the wraith was going to attack again, any moment now, and after such a big explosion there would likely be more. But his tiger didn't move, and Bofur frowned and moved around him, dragging his hand through Nadir's thick fur. Then he paused as his fingers ran up against moisture. Bofur's hands trembled atop his tiger and he pulled them back to look at the thick red liquid that dripped across them.

"No…," he whispered, moving around in a hurry to his tiger's head. He lifted the animal's jaw, and looked into unblinking eyes.

"No! Nadir!" Bofur shouted, screaming across his beloved friend's body, and tears dripped down his face as he struggled to find the wound and stop the bleeding. Karida licked across Nadir's fur desperately, wretched little whining noises coming from her throat. It was too late; his tiger was dead, broken shards of bone piercing his body and a large gash across his side.

Nori looked ahead, his vision suddenly clear, but he could feel a searing pain in his chest. The thief glanced down, gasping and choking as he observed the white spike that penetrated his body. Blood dripped around the serrated bone, and he gagged, looking up at the tamer, crouched and shouting over his tiger's limp body. He couldn't hear anything but a steady ringing in his left ear, he couldn't feel anything but the numb throbbing in his chest, and Nori's mind blanked as he realised what he'd done and that he was probably going to die.

* * *

The army held their ground fairly well, until one of the foot soldiers stumbled across a mark in the sand and the field erupted around them. Soldiers fell to the ground in pieces and Thorin remembered quickly that traps covered the land sporadically. The King fought alongside his sister while Gandalf rushed around the battlefield, attempting to disarm as many traps as he could find. Bifur moved between the rows of soldiers, summoning beasts to help in the fight and when a large group appeared from the western entrance he tossed a scroll on the ground and pressed three fingers atop it.

The warlock made several complex hand movements with his other hand, and fire flew up from the ground, circling their enemy and burning their shadowy flesh. Bifur smirked and moved along while the soldiers cheered at their success. The men heaved their weapons into the ghostly forms one after the other against a seemingly endless army. They were growing tired, after such a constant battle, and Thorin shouted to rally the forces even as two human looking forms crawled from the tunnels. Arrows soared through their bodies, and they walked through them, not a care in the world. The one on the left stood ten feet tall at least, and a man rushed towards it and drove a sword through its gut. The creature watched passively, before raising an arm and swiping the soldier to the ground. It tore the blade from its body and threw it into the army, cutting a man to the ground in one shot.

"We can't kill them Thorin," Dís shouted worriedly as the other creature charged straight at her. She screamed as its teeth tore into her arm and chewed the flesh from her bones and Thorin swiped through it with his blade. It crumbled into dirt atop Dís, before pushing from her body as its own reformed before their eyes. Dís pressed fingers to her arm desperately as the wound bled, and she staggered to her feet, her brother standing fiercely at her side. The other beast moved slowly through their forces, its feet thumping and shaking the ground with each step as it threw men to the ground and took arrows and spears to its body without flinching.

The King signalled his men to fall back and regroup, and they gathered best they could while the creatures followed and attacked at random. Gandalf raised his staff and lowered it to the sand, a blast of power emanating from the ground and knocking their foes from their feet. It did not stall the enemy long, but it was enough to allow the men to fall back and form a line together. Thorin shouted to the army and they charged again into battle, taking down the creatures they could while the two undead beasts attacked through them repeatedly. The King cringed at the screams of his men as their bodies were torn and thrown to the ground and he glanced at his sister worriedly while she breathed heavily at his side and gripped her bleeding wound. They were overrun. It was an impossible fight, and he struggled between calling his army to fall back and run and ordering them to fight to the death.

Thorin sliced desperately through another beast, and knelt in the sand. The ground was shaking again, and he looked around in fear. But instead of wraiths and dark creatures, horses with riders appeared from the East, charging into the battle and shooting down enemies like flies. Even the hulking creature became confused under so much pressure and Thorin rejoiced.

"Dain!" he shouted, as the other King rode up beside him, sword in hand. Dain jumped from his horse and pulled Thorin up from the ground, tugging him into a quick embrace.

"Thorin," he said with a nod, bracing for an onslaught of enemies.

"I thought you would not come," Thorin shouted, even as he sliced through his foes, and the other man laughed heartily, stabbing fiercely down at a creature beneath him.

"Of course we came. I'm sorry, I did not have time to send a reply. Our armies began the march immediately," he panted, swinging his blade aggressively. Thorin grinned and fought beside his friend, and Dís lifted her blade and fought through the pain to help.

* * *

Dwalin charged through the halls of the palace frantically. He'd been in the throne room, with everyone else when he noticed a particular man was peculiarly absent. Ori hadn't seen fit to show up it seemed, and the guard was distraught with worry, though his appearance said otherwise. His brow was furrowed angrily, and he stormed in a rage through the halls, finding the library doors with ease. He pushed them open and charged into the centre of the room, where sure enough, the scribe sat cross-legged atop a table.

"What are yeh doin' in here? I've been lookin' for yeh everywhere!" Dwalin bellowed, and Ori cringed slightly under his gaze. The smaller man looked down and tugged a thick tome to his chest, the sleeves of his robe hanging about his fingers.

"The books…settle my mind," Ori muttered and Dwalin deflated immediately, stepping closer to the other man and placing his hands on the table on either side of him.

"Yeh should be in the throne room, with the others," he spoke gently and Ori continued to look down while he worried his lower lip.

"Dwalin, what do you see in me?" the scribe asked, looking up into the guard's eyes. Dwalin frowned at him in confusion.

"I'm no fighter, I'm not strong, I'm a coward, and I know you hate cowards," Ori stuttered, tugging his book even tighter.

"Yer no coward. If yeh were, yeh wouldn't be sittin' here all alone," Dwalin insisted, tugging the other close to his chest. Ori nestled against him, setting his book aside to tug at the larger man's shirt.

"Yer smart, attractive, kind. I'd be lucky to have yeh," Dwalin spoke as he twisted his fingers into Ori's scraggly hair. He didn't know much about such things, but he knew his heart beat faster whenever he looked at the little scribe, that he stumbled over his words half the time when they spoke. He felt an awkward pain in his chest when Ori sniffled against him, and knew he never wanted to feel it again.

"I should be askin' what yeh see in a big oaf like me," the guard admitted, and Ori chuckled against his chest, wiping away a stray tear. The sound brought a smile to Dwalin's face and he pulled away to study the other man's expression.

"I'd make love to yeh right here, if yeh'd let me," Dwalin uttered, a dark red blush rising up his neck and filling his cheeks. Ori gaped at him in embarrassment and turned his face away, curving his shoulders forward slightly. The guard coughed nervously and rubbed at the back of his neck while Ori played with his sleeves. He shouldn't have said something quite so forward, but it had slipped out. After a long awkward silence the scribe's gentle voice sounded between them.

"Okay," he whispered.

Dwalin figured he must have misheard, but Ori glanced up at him from under lowered lids confidently and leaned forward to kiss him. Dwalin stood still, allowing the other man to explore his open lips freely, but when the scribe nibbled softly on his tongue he pushed the smaller man down on the table and leant over his body. Ori gasped and watched the guard with wide eyes. Dwalin's gaze was serious, and unusually pensive, as he pressed a kiss to the side of Ori's neck. It was gentle and sensual, and soon enough the two men began rocking against one another, the table shaking slightly with their movements. Dwalin unbuckled Ori's thick belt and slipped a large hand beneath the rich fabric of his robe, dragging his fingers across smooth skin. He sucked wetly on Ori's collar bone, drawing tiny little gasps of pleasure from between the scribe's lips.

Ori loved the feeling of such strength. He loved the way Dwalin's rough skin felt against his own, and the deep throaty sound of his rich tenor. He didn't care if the soldier was better at fighting than reading, he didn't need someone that knew a handful of useless information from age old books. He wanted Dwalin. With the guard, he felt safe, attractive, loved even. His head turned to the side as Dwalin's hands wandered places they had never been before, and Ori felt his gaze blurring with lust. He could barely see the shapes of bookcases in the distance but he did notice a shadow moving. And he tensed, gripping his fingers into Dwalin's arm painfully. The other man hardly noticed, but he did inch back just a touch.

"Wha'?" He blurted ineloquently, turning to follow the scribes gaze. Dwalin's eyes hardened and he pulled away from Ori as a short robed shape charged in their direction.

"Get down!" Dwalin shouted, throwing the scribe beneath the table, just as the thing collided with his side like a boulder. The guard grunted loudly, gripping the thing, and pulling it off him as he threw it to the side.

"Hide!" Dwalin shouted, and Ori skittered away beneath the tables, making his way towards the maze of shelves. The creature's robe fell from its head exposing an emotionless grey face with glowing red eyes. Its neck twitched to the side as though it was listening intently, and then it turned, charging towards Ori as he crawled along the ground.

"Oh no yeh don't!" Dwalin shouted, pulling his long sword out and running at it. He just barely managed to wedge himself in front, dragging his blade across in front of his body. The thing grabbed it with both hands, not cringing in the slightest as its flaky skin tore away. Ori scrambled away, running between the aisles and desperately looking for a place to hide while the guard struggled against surprising strength. The creature hurled him into the table, and the wood cracked beneath his body. It stormed towards the shelves, knocking them to the ground and they fell into each other as books scattered across the ground.

It charged at Dwalin again, just as the guard began to stand, and he groaned in pain as his back knocked against another shelf. His sword slipped from his fingers, as the creature kicked him in the gut repeatedly. Ori hurried to run beneath the falling shelves, cringing occasionally as a book fell beside him and split its spine. He was completely livid. How dare someone show such disrespect in his library! Then his eyes widened as he caught sight of the monster attacking Dwalin. The scribe charged, picking up a heavy encyclopaedia on the way, and he slammed it down atop the creature's head. It staggered, and crumbled as it fell back from Dwalin, and the guard, stood up weakly, catching his breath. Ori panted, the book gripped tightly between his fingers, and Dwalin grabbed his robes and tugged him between the aisles. They ran towards the door as the monster reformed, and thrust it's hands on the ground. The room shook, shelves crumbled, and pieces of the ceiling fell towards them while Dwalin shielded Ori with his body. He grunted as chunks of stone hit his back, knocking them both to the ground.

Ori glanced up above them and gasped as fire reigned down from the ceiling. The shelves caught aflame, and books burned around them. Dwalin struggled to his hands and knees above the scribe, panting as the room crumbled around them. They were stuck, surrounded by rubble and fire. Dwalin could not see the creature in the flames, but he knew the thing still lurked. Even if they managed somehow to escape, there was no way he could take down an enemy that refused to die. Tears streamed down Ori's face as he watched his library crumble around them, the paper burning and turning to ash, the shelves, falling apart and collapsing on top of each other.

"My…b-books," he stuttered, his voice hitching with sobs. Dwalin looked into his face sorrowfully, and ran his thumb across his tear streaked cheek. That was it. He'd failed. Dwalin vaguely hoped Nori and Dori would forgive him for allowing their little brother to die.

"Wish I could have done more, wish I could have saved yeh," he muttered, coughing as the smoke invaded his lungs while he made sure Ori stayed low to the ground. The scribe reached up, wrapping tiny fingers around Dwalin's neck and pulling the guard down for a kiss.

"You did save me," he whispered.

"I'm not alone."

* * *

The throne room was packed full. Bilbo looked around at the many faces he'd grown to recognize over his short time spent within the walls of the palace. Balin stood stiffly near the entrance waiting for his brother to return, while the guards circled back and forth outside the room as well as up the entire hall beyond. It was well protected; no creature or man would be able to walk through the doors undetected, no matter how powerful.

Despite the tense atmosphere the children were excitable as always, bouncing around the room and playing with each other and the occasional adult. Bombur had a circle of children sitting around him as he told a suspenseful story, waving his arms wildly and speaking in various different voices. The children giggled at him and tugged on his legs while his wife sat with a happy smile beside him. Glóin sat with his family as well. His wife was sturdy looking, yet elegant, and his son Gimli pulled a needle through a piece of fabric as his father instructed him. Gimli pricked his finger and mumbled in frustration while his eyes glanced towards the door. It was clear he wished he was fighting with the army. Oín glanced at his nephew's bleeding finger, itching to clean the wound, and he cringed when the young man popped it in his mouth instead.

Bilbo smiled as he watched everyone interact, occasionally glancing around and making sure a child had not sneaked away. This time however, he counted one extra head and he frowned as his eyes looked about the room again. There was only one boy he did not know, a tiny child, dressed in a white robe. His face was hidden, and he did not play with the others, instead standing against the wall near the doors. The child was watching Balin, glancing between him and the doorway, and then he pushed from the wall and walked to the centre of the room. Bilbo stood to approach, his face filled with worry. The King said no child had walked inside the walls of the palace for years. The only children here were Bilbo's own. It dawned on him, that this was no child, this was…their enemy.

"Balin!" Bilbo shouted across the room, drawing the advisor's attention as the child placed small grey hands on the stone floor. Balin looked towards him, but not in time, and the hall shook as the small creature cast some sort of spell. Children screamed as stone fell from the ceiling and glass shattered on the walls, and the men and women of the palace clustered together in one end of the room. The entrance crumbled, the guards beyond left staring dumfounded as they were trapped outside of the room.

The creature stood, raising an arm above its head and dropping one of the heavy pillars down hard atop the advisor. Balin's bones cracked and he fell to the floor with a shout, unconscious on impact. Bilbo scrambled across the floor, his eyes wide and frightened as he desperately gathered up any children he could find in the chaos. A little girl clung to his sleeve and Bilbo lifted a sobbing boy into his arms, ushering several others to the far end of the room.

"Go, see Bombur? Go sit with him!" Bilbo ordered, prying the girls fingers from his sleeve and placing the little boy in her arms. They ran across the shaking ground as the cook reached out from beneath a fallen overhang and pulled them in. Bombur beckoned to Bilbo but the jeweller turned to search the room with his eyes one last time. The creature was casting something again, and glass shattered on the western wall, falling to the ground above a group of children. They screamed and covered their heads and Bilbo ran towards them.

"Stop!" the jeweller shouted, running between the creature and the three boys huddled on the ground.

"There are children here!" he insisted, though he knew it would have little effect. The wraith gazed at him calmly, lowering his hands and walking towards him. Then it stepped close and raised its crumbling fingers to Bilbo's chest.

"Please," the jeweller whispered, and then he gasped as long sharp nails elongated and pressed into his skin. Bilbo's legs shook and he fell to his knees, reaching out towards the wraith. Its eyes looked into his, unblinking and emotionless. It really was just a child, tiny little hands and a small innocent face. Bilbo could almost pretend it was one of his own, if he ignored the glowing eyes and cracked flaking skin. It was horrid, thinking anyone could use a child in such a way, turn them violent, raise a tormented spirit from the ground. Bilbo wondered if the boy had ever known the love of a parent in life, or if he was an orphan of war, holding only the knowledge of hatred and pain.

"It's alright, little one," he croaked, dragging a finger down the creature's face, as its nails pierced through his torso. Bilbo choked, his vision fading, and he pulled the thing to his chest and ran fingers through the dry strands of hair atop its head. It flinched in his arms in surprise, pulling away from his hold to look at Bilbo's face with widened eyes. He could feel the nails shrinking, pulling away, and then when he glanced into its eyes, he saw something, a distant pain, as the boy's brow furrowed slightly. The ground stopped shaking, and Bilbo smiled fondly collapsing to the ground, the boy nestled atop his chest. It looked down, at the wound in the jeweller's belly, and pressed decaying hands to it, growing panicked as the blood kept flowing out. Its shoulders shook atop Bilbo and he could imagine he heard the soft sounds of a child weeping.

"Shh…," Bilbo whispered, running a weak hand across its back while he looked up at the ruined ceiling.

* * *

Fíli ran through the pathways quickly following the tiny etched fangs he saw along the walls. He nearly ran past the room in question, the entrance small and hidden along the wall. But there was another mark scratched low to the ground and Fíli new this was the room Nori had directed him to. He inched around the wall and gaped at the sight before his eyes. Kíli's body lay on the ground surrounded by snakes. He was pale, and feverish, and the Prince could see at least two puncture wounds on his body as the other man struggled to crawl away from the reptiles.

Fíli ran into the room and stopped in shock as a large figure stepped away from the wall, its eyes glowing red as it laughed deeply. The Prince glanced between it and his brother, holding his blades at the ready.

"Ah, and there he is, as expected. I believe you already know what I seek," Azog hissed, moving through the snapping snakes to stand between Fíli and the dancer.

"Why are you doing this?" Fíli asked, watching as Kíli huddled against the wall with glazed eyes. Azog laughed slowly and turned to walk towards his brother, lifting him up by the hair.

"You in Erebor live such perfect lives, no famine, no disease, no war. And why? All because the gods bless you, the gods protect you. You are undeserving!" Azog spat, throwing Kíli to the ground and spitting on him. Fíli growled and his hands tightened around the hilts of his blades.

"Thrór was a wretched man, conquering, killing, controlling. He destroyed my Kingdom, my beautiful golden Kingdom. He stole my wealth, my power, I had all of the riches in the world. My palaces rose higher than even the gods could reach," Azog sneered, turning towards Fíli and kicking Kíli's head as he walked towards the Prince. The dancer fell on the ground with a groan, dirty fingers clenching beneath his body.

"And Thrór destroyed that, all of that, and then he is rewarded for it? We are the marred, we are perfect, even tainted as we are. It is my Kingdom, that deserves this power, and so I shall have it," the beast of a man shouted. Fíli knew Dori's spheres would have little effect on Azog. The very cracks within his skin glowed red with power. Anything he managed to slice off would merely grow back. They might however work on the snakes.

"Look, he's already been bitten twice, he'll surely die. Give me the jewel, and perhaps I can save his life," Azog spoke, glancing towards the gem set in Fíli's crown. He stepped to the side, gesturing to where Kíli still struggled on the floor while a wild grin splayed across his face. The dancer lifted his head and looked ahead, even though his sight was nearly gone.

"Don't!" Kíli gasped, his eyes begging Fíli not to give in. But Azog stood between them again.

"I've got the antidote right here," the repulsive man spoke, holding out a tiny glass vial and shaking it between two fingers, and then he tucked it back inside his sleeve.

"Don't Fíli!" Kíli yelled, pulling his body across the ground towards his brother. A snake snapped at his leg and he screamed, twitching as the fangs pierced his skin. Azog walked towards him, and kicked him back again, baring his yellowed teeth in a smirk.

"Look at him struggling to get to you, pathetic. Enough wasting time, I know that gem in your crown is what I seek, give me it," Azog commanded, holding out a clawed hand towards the Prince. Fíli blinked at him with a grimace and did his best not to glance towards his brother. He had little choice. If he could just get the antidote…maybe he'd be able to somehow get out with Kíli. He needed time, but his brother had little. Fíli sheathed one of his swords and reached up to grab his crown. He looked at the stone for a moment, and threw the crown to the ground in front of Azog's feet.

"I expected something more impressive…," Azog spoke, as he lifted the crown to his hands and wrenched the gem from the setting, discarding the golden circlet on the ground. His thumb rubbed around the jewel as he held it up and peered at the different colours.

"You have your key, now let my brother go!" Fíli shouted, trying to inch closer towards Kíli. The ghastly man's deep broken laugh echoed throughout the room and he sneered at Fíli as drool slipped from his dried lips.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong…I'm afraid I need him still," Azog muttered, with a sick glance towards the Prince.

"Your brother, is the key. The stone just makes the key turn," he hissed, rotating and gripping Kíli up by his hair. Fíli shouted and pulled his sword out again, charging at the man, but Azog growled and kicked him into the opposite wall. Snakes slithered towards him and he braced himself and moved away along the wall carefully, avoiding getting bitten.

"Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar! Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar," Azog chanted, clenching the gem and holding Kíli in his claw. He repeated it over and over his eyes clenched closed tightly. After several moments he opened his eyes and looked down towards the gem in confusion, and then to Kíli, who was reaching up to his hair and cringing in pain.

"It's not doing anything!" Azog howled, shaking Kíli in his claw.

"He's supposed to open the doorway to Valimar! He's the amanaišal, I know he is! Where is it?" the large man shouted, and he threw Kíli back to the ground. Fíli threw a sphere to the dirt and charged through the thick green smoke, dragging his blades low to the ground along the way. The snakes fell bleeding to the ground, and he jumped and dug a blade into Azog's chest. The large man growled at him and flexed his fists, ignoring the blade that protruded from his chest and Fíli was unable to reach the antidote within his sleeve.

"You lied to me!" Azog shouted, reaching forwards and pulling Fíli to his chest. The Prince choked as a thick claw wrapped around his neck and tightened. Fíli gripped his wrist, and gagged in his grasp, then swiped upwards with his second cutlass into the monster's arm. It fell from Azog's body, and Fíli braced himself against the ground, stumbling back from the beast while he gasped for breath. Azog roared as his limb fell, crumbling into dust, and he twisted as dark shadows flowed from his torn socket shaping into another scaly limb. Azog looked towards Fíli in a rage, his eyes glowing menacingly, and Fíli swore he saw the shadow of another drifting from his body. The beast of a man growled and threw the antidote vial to the ground, the contents smashing over the dirt.

"No!" Fíli shouted, his voice catching as he looked at the spilled liquid in despair. Kíli was trembling on the ground and the Prince had lost his only chance of saving him. He ran with fury at the menacing creature, his remaining cutlass in hand. Azog tore at the one still embedded in his chest, and swung it at the Prince, their blades clashing in the cave loudly. Fíli ducked low and twisted his body around, slicing through Azog's leg. The beast fell to the ground, his claw reaching out to stop his fall as dust clouded around them.

Kíli was still on the ground, but his eyes remained open and tears ran from the corners as he watched the other two fight. He reached out with the fingers on one hand watching as Azog's leg grew back, and the man charged at Fíli. The two swung fiercely at each other, Fíli dodging blow after blow, while Azog grew increasingly angrier.

"Enough! Ziimarp!" The creature hollered, and red smoke leaked from the cracks in his skin. It surrounded the Prince, flooding into his nostrils and crippling him. Fíli trembled as he lost control of his limbs. His veins were on fire, and he fell to his knees in pain, dropping his cutlass with a clang to the dirt. A strangled noise left his throat as he fell flat on the ground, Azog towering above him.

"Mat!" the creature growled and he thrust a blade straight down into Fíli's chest. The Prince squirmed on the ground and coughed up blood, and Kíli screamed. Fíli's body twitched for a moment atop the dirt before going lax beneath Azog's form.

"No! Please no!" Kíli whispered, his vision blurred with tears. He could barely move, and several snakes still slithered on the ground around his body, but he cared little for his own pain. His brother had fallen, his brother was bleeding, and even through his clouded vision he saw the bloody blade torn from Fíli's chest.

"Please! Please, save my brother, please! Please, please, please," Kíli whispered desperately, begging any Vala that might listen to his words. He could see Azog's blurry shape moving towards him and his begging grew frantic. Kíli's breathing came in ragged gasps, and he was sweating with fever. His fingers twitched in the dirt, reaching out towards his brother, though the distance between them was far too long for him to touch. He felt a burning in his chest, and saw a bright light before his eyes. The Arkenstone was glowing around his neck and as Kíli's eyes closed, it lit up the entire room in a brilliant blue glow.

Cracks appeared across Kíli's body, and white light streamed from between them. Azog backed away in fear, his eyes furrowing as they travelled to the pendant that hang from the young man's neck. The dancer's entire chest lit up and large white hands began climbing from within. The doorway to Valimar had opened. Azog trembled before the power of the Valar, inching back towards the tunnels, but his body froze and began to crumble.

"What, what is this?" Azog hissed, falling over as his body dissolved towards the ground. His power was fading, he could feel it leaking from his body. In that moment Melkor tore from within him and pushed Azog's head to the dirt, drawing the remainder of his power back from his body, and the corrupt Vala rushed towards the open doorway.

A blast of white light flashed before Melkor, and his shadowy form fell back, his claws covering his face as the brightness ate away at his matter. And a powerful form stepped up and out from Kíli's body, followed by another, and then three more yet. The Valar stood before Melkor, crouching in the small cave as they stared down at him with judging eyes. They were intimidating and commanding, filled with the power of Valimar. Four of the Valar reached up and disappeared through the sand, and only Mânawenûz remained in the enclosed room. His eyes glowed with light and his beard hung long before his body as he swung his mace into the ground, the tunnels crumbling and the dirt collapsing down above him.

Melkor cringed before him but thrust desperately forward, reaching for the stone still resting around Kíli's neck. His claw tore the gem away, but Mânawenûz roared, and wind charged under the now visible skies, rushing around the dark shadow and holding him in place. The Arkenstone slipped between Melkor's wispy claws, clinking on the ground as he was encased in a windy prison. The remaining snakes crumbled as Melkor struggled in the Vala's windy chains and his claws contracted and scrambled to escape his chains. Mânawenûz thrust his mace into the ground, sand, dirt, and bones, falling into a deep cavern beneath the earth and the Vala cast his winds around Melkor then threw him into the chasm, condemning him to suffer beneath the lands of men.

The great Vala thrust his mace once more towards the ground, a flash of light striking out from the impact and travelling across the lands of Šebeth. The powerful figure folded his arms before his body, walking back towards the sacred doorway, his four returning to his side, and they disappeared, the passage sealing behind them. The cracks of light faded on Kíli's skin, leaving his body pale and lifeless on the dirty ground, and Fíli stirred.

* * *

Dwalin collapsed in shock atop Ori as the ceiling smashed above them and a hulking white form landed heavily in the ruins of the library. It lifted a giant hammer and lowered it to the ground, the flames extinguishing in the surrounding rush of air.

"…it's Aȝûlêz!" Ori gasped, watching wide-eyed as the Vala raised its hands, white light flashing through the room and knocking the two men flat on the ground. When Ori blinked his eyes open the Vala was gone, and he crawled out from beneath the other man's body. The scribe scuttled across the ruins, looking for any movement amongst the shelves, but the creature that attacked them was gone. His eyes roamed the library in relief for a moment, but quickly his gaze turned sour.

"My books! Look at them! A complete mess!" Ori shouted, rushing about the shelves, and lifting the charred remains of encyclopaedias from the ground, while Dwalin watched his bruises fade and the scrapes on his hands seal before his eyes.

* * *

The children cried and huddled behind Bombur in the throne room while Bilbo's life faded away. The ceiling was beautiful above him, even with chunks missing from it and still continuing to fall. Decorative woven patterns ran down the dome, traced with gold and gems and Bilbo smiled softly, his hands tightening in the crumbling hair of the lost soul still resting atop him. He heard a series of gasps in the room, and the jewels sparkled with light. Bilbo glanced at the boy then beyond to a wispy white form that stood over them. His eyes connected with it, and then a large glowing hand reached out and touched the back of the boy's head. The wraith's eyes closed in bliss, and Bilbo watched as a smile spread across the little one's face, then it dissolved, not into dust, but into water, and floated away into the air.

Bilbo gasped as water washed over his body, and he felt his pain fade away to nothing. He sat up slowly, his wound no longer painful, and then the mysterious form disappeared into a brilliant blue wave, gushing through cracks in the walls. The jeweller lifted his fingers to his touch his chest and gently prodded, but he was healed. He stood in surprise, gazing around at the men, women, and children who glanced about the room in wonder. Then Bilbo's eyes flew to where Balin still lay crushed beneath a beam.

He cried out, running to the other man and struggling to lift the wooden post, but it was far too heavy for him alone. Gimli was at his side in moments, his father, mother, and uncle beside him, and the five managed to heave the weight away. Oín pressed his fingers to Balin's neck, concentrating for a few moments, and he pulled away with a sigh.

"He's alive,"

* * *

Nadir was still on the ground and Bofur hovered over his body, completely unaware of his surroundings. The smoke was clearing from the explosion, and Nori watched the other man suffer in sorrow, and then his eyes roamed beyond where the creature managed to pull its body from the spikes. It was fully formed again, its body twisted dementedly and there was a frightening grin across his face. Nori could suffer the fate he was given, he could die, but he couldn't stand to sit and watch as Bofur was torn to shreds in front of him.

"B-Bofur, please," Nori gurgled, blood dripping from his lips, his eyes pained as the creature crawled along the ground towards the tamer.

"Move, you have to…move," he begged the other, choking, and his hands lifted to the spike within his body and he tried to push himself from it. His arms dropped to the ground, weak, and he felt the unfamiliar sensation of tears dripping from his eyes. The ground trembled and Nori groaned as it shook his body against the serrated bone. He glanced to the left when light flashed through the channel, watching as the tunnel caved in and thick white hooves galloped across the ground. His mind was hazy, but he knew what he saw. A man, atop a glowing horse, bow and arrow in hand. It charged through the tunnel, bringing the walls and dirt down with it, and it shot a golden arrow into the beast amongst them. The thing screeched and withered away into nothing as the horse whisked by them. Nori thought for sure it would crush Bofur, but the hooves passed right through the tamer's body, hardly affecting him at all. And as a white light flashed through the tunnel again his pain disappeared.

He felt at peace as he looked towards the other man, and he even smiled as Nadir shook awake, and stood on unsteady legs. It was a miracle. Arômêz had come to them after all. Bofur was shouting in happiness, pulling his tiger into a fierce hug while Karida licked at them both excitedly. The tamer looked up suddenly, glancing around the tunnel and his eyes landed on Nori, the smile fading from his lips. Nori saw Bofur's mouth open in shock and the other man scampered towards him.

"No…you're going to be okay," Bofur spoke unevenly, gripping Nori's face and looking down at the spike that pierced him.

"It's a fatal wound, e-even I can see that," Nori stuttered, coughing blood from his mouth.

"Nori, no no no," Bofur whispered, running fingers over his face and through his hair. The thief grinned and laughed lightly, his body numb.

"I'm g-glad your tiger is alright," Nori muttered, lowering his eyes from Bofur's distraught gaze. The tamer trembled and gripped the other man's torso, pulling him from the jagged bone with a bit of struggle.

"Gaaaagh!" Nori screamed, the numbness fading as his body was overcome with pain once more. Bofur propped him against the wall and then he was tearing at his shirts, ripping the material from the thief's body determinedly and he pressed his hands against Nori's shredded skin. Nadir and Karida paced beside them, pausing to lick at Nori's face and nudging his arms with their heads.

"W-what are you doing?" the redhead asked, his eyes glazed as he looked into Bofur's frightened gaze.

"Stopping the bleeding!" the other man shouted, pressing hard against the wound, and looking through his fingers at the damage. He wiped a torn piece of cloth across it, as Nori grew sleepy and started to slouch in his arms. The thief's gaze travelled over the other man's form, across his solid shoulders and strong forearms, to the dark wiry hair bound in loose braids. Bofur's shirt was open at the neck and Nori watched the muscles contracting frantically, then his eyes landed on the white fang dangling from the other man's ear. He recalled the very first time he met the tamer, in a distant land, far to the east. That fang…he loved watching it, even then.

"Bofur…I…love y-,"

"Nori! It's healing!" Bofur shouted, wiping away more blood as his fingers pressed against the healing wound in wonder.

"Eh?" Nori gasped dazedly, his eyes narrowing with confusion.

"It's healing, look!" Bofur insisted, drawing the other man's gaze lower. Nori watched as his skin sealed before his eyes, the gaping hole that was once in his chest disappearing into a white mass of scar tissue. He still felt weak, and weary, but his pain had dulled again, and his mind was beginning to clear. Bofur's fingers lifted his chin and the tamer looked into his eyes intensely.

"Did you…say you love me?" Bofur asked, and Nori swallowed nervously.

"No…," he dragged the word out, and his eyes veered off to the side.

"You thought you were going to die, and you said you love me," Bofur spoke, a wide grin forming on his face.

"I didn't…you're hearing things," Nori insisted, blinking frequently and refusing to look the other in the eye. The tamer leaned close to him, his lips not far away.

"I'm kissing you," Bofur voiced, and Nori scrunched his eyebrows together.

"Just this once," the thief muttered, allowing the soft press of lips against his own. Bofur kissed him gently but insistently, parting his lips with a probing tongue. They separated, breathing heatedly with soft flushes on their skin.

"Oh I'm not letting you go now," Bofur remarked with a crooked grin and Nori finally looked in his eyes.

"Idiot," he whispered, as they kissed once more.

"Liar," Bofur murmured against his lips. He lifted a hand and stroked the side of Nori's face, kissing across it before placing a light one just to the side of the other man's mouth. Nori shuddered and he bit his lip before speaking.

"Lecher,"

Another kiss.

"Thief,"

Followed by three more.

* * *

The army above ground was fighting an endless battle. The two indestructible creatures had killed more men than Thorin cared to admit, and the King gagged as he watched one chew the flesh from the bones of one of his soldiers. It was not the first of his men to meet such a fate. Even with Dain's army, they struggled against their foes, the hulking beast knocking men from their horses, and stomping on fallen soldiers, while the cannibal ate his way through the forces. Gandalf summoned Varda's Theryn to aid them, and the birds swept across the battlefield plucking enemies from the ground and tossing them, driving their claws into more. Still it was not enough to overthrow their foes, and Thorin feared they would lose the fight.

Until the ground opened up and several giant white forms rushed across the surface of the land. They skittered away from the battle, glowing trails glittering behind them, but one remained, tall and strong, fists at the ready. Thorin gaped at the figure towering over the field. Its size dwarfed the hulking dark creature and its fists smashed into its face, dust crumbling away. This time it did not regenerate, and the Vala threw its body to the sand below and thrust heavy fists through the creature's body.

"Tulukastâz!" Dain gasped in surprise, watching as the golden warrior knocked his foes to the ground. The Vala stormed across the battlefield, lifting the cannibal and tearing it in two, then it stomped, the ground shaking wildly as a white glow flashed out from its feet. The soldiers were thrown to the ground with the quaking, and the army they faced shattered into pieces at their feet. Tulukastâz hollered a war cry to the skies and sunk back beneath the ground, leaving the two armies left to recover in shock.

"Thorin!" Dís shouted at her brother, and the King looked towards her with startled eyes. She thrust her arm out before him, pulling her sleeves away.

"I am healed!" she gushed, and Thorin looked at her arm in surprise. He glanced around the battlefield, watching as men sat up from the ground. Even soldiers, whose bodies had been torn, their flesh ripped away, were whole once more. The Valar had saved them, and restored life to his men.

"We must find the boys," he hissed, standing straight and running towards the tunnels, his sister at his back.

* * *

The Prince groaned on the ground, rolling to the side as he looked around the hollow. He was pretty sure he'd just hallucinated a whole lot, but then again, perhaps not. The room was unnaturally silent, and Azog was nowhere to be seen. He was however, feeling unusually alive. His body hurt all over, but it was a residual pain, and he could breathe well enough once he'd coughed the remaining blood from his lungs.

He caught sight of his brother, stark white and still on the ground, and Fíli stumbled to his feet, limping over to the other man. The Prince fell beside him, running fingers across the other's clammy skin. Kíli's lips were turning purple, and his chest was still. The wounds across his body had sealed, just as Fíli's had, but still Kíli lay motionless. The Prince could almost pretend his brother was sleeping, the way his face was relaxed, and his hair settled messily around his face. Fíli's eyes burned as he saw the moonflower, fully bloomed and still nestled within the matted dark strands. He knew better, he knew his brother was fading.

"No…no, Kíli, please," Fíli whispered, running his hands over the other's face and lips. His brother's skin was sticky with sweat, and overly warm to the touch, not so different from their heated moment after they made love. Fíli brushed his thumbs across the dancer's eyebrows and pressed a kiss to unresponsive lips.

"Kíli, I love you, I'm sorry, please, just come back to me," Fíli droned, pressing his brow to his brother's in sorrow. Fíli cursed himself, for leaving his brother alone in his rooms, for shouting at him even as Kíli's eyes began to tear up. He did not want those words spoken, to be the last his brother ever heard from him.

"Fíli! Fíli you found him!" Dís gasped from the entrance of the room, and Fíli barely spared her a glance. His gaze was glued to Kíli's dark lashes, where they rest stationary against his pale skin. Thorin charged into the room, his sister and counsel at his side, and he knelt beside his eldest nephew in concern.

"His wounds are healed, and yet still he dies? Why?" Fíli choked on his words, slouching over his brother in despair. He could not understand why the Valar would save him, but not the man he loved. Thorin moved closer and lifted Kíli's wrist between his fingers.

"He's not dead Fíli, his heart still beats," The King spoke gently, but it did little to lessen Fíli's anguish. Dori shoved his way between the two men and Fíli glared at him as he was roughly pushed to the side.

"Get out of the way!" Dori shouted, kneeling next to Kíli and checking him over.

"Snake bites?" He asked, running his fingers across the tiny scars on his body.

"What did they look like Fíli? You must remember, were their mouths black on the inside?" Dori asked, gripping Fíli's arm tightly. The Prince blinked and tried to remember, but he'd been so focused on the way Kíli looked, and Azog's lurking form, that he'd barely even looked at the snakes.

"Yes, yes I think so…," he muttered, not entirely sure at all. Dori eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but turned to Kíli and thoroughly examined the scars from the bites.

"The venom remains strong in his veins," Dori muttered.

"The antidote…he had it but…," Fíli stuttered, gesturing to the broken vial on the ground but Dori just waved him off.

"It's the same poison they use on their blades. I have some antidote with me; I've been working on it since the last attack. Thought we might need it," he explained and Fíli's eyes widened as the apothecary pulled a corked bottle from his satchel and popped the cap off. Fíli watched as the other man eased the liquid down Kíli's throat, gently rubbing and then he wrapped a band around the dancer's leg, just above one of the bite marks.

"He's fought it off before without such aid, I'm sure he can do it again," Dori muttered, sitting back and waiting while Fíli bent worriedly over his brother's head. They waited for a few moments, and Fíli breathed out a sigh of relief when Kíli inhaled deeply. He started laughing, though tears still fell from his eyes, and he pressed his nose against his brother's. Kíli's eyes fluttered and they opened slightly, though they were still a bit glassy as he gazed up at the Prince.

"F-Fíli, mell nin," the dancer whispered, his eyes flickering across the other man's face. And Fíli was overjoyed. He pushed hair from Kíli's face and kissed him once more, pulling away to as the other man's eyes closed again.

"Uncle, he's alright, he's…he's going to be okay," Fíli voiced, turning to Thorin with a relieved smile. The King tugged his nephew close, and held him, as they watched Kíli's breathing even out. Thorin's hand rest over Kíli's fondly and he ran the other through Fíli's hair. Dís watched from not far away, her gaze soft as she observed her brother faun over the boys, the Arkenstone all but forgotten. She walked towards where it lay sparkling on the ground, attached to a beautiful gold chain. It glittered as it always had, and she held it tightly between her fingers. She was sure…the stone had saved her boys, and the Valar had come when they needed them most. She wrapped the chain around it and tucked it away for safe keeping.

* * *

The palace was in devastating shape when the Theryn landed them safely outside its walls. Thorin cringed as he realised he'd offered Dain's army keep for a few nights while his Kingdom was in such a state. The army and King moved through the palace observing the wreckage with distaste, while Dís and Dori took Fíli and Kíli to the infirmary. The guards in the palace seemed confused, but well, and unharmed, and they were digging out the caved in entrance to the throne room.

"What happened here?" Thorin asked one of the men, and the guard turned to him nervously.

"Not too sure my King. The walls shook, and then the doorway caved in, trapping everyone inside," he stuttered and Thorin turned towards the entrance and began kicking at the rubble. It took several minutes, but together with the help of several guards, they cleared a space wide enough to crawl through. Thorin was sure he looked ridiculous, his cloaks getting caught on jagged pieces of stone while he struggled through the tiny space.

Thorin fell unceremoniously to the stone tiles on the opposite side and he looked throughout the room carefully before running to Bilbo's side. The small man sat next to Balin, while Oín worked to wake him and the King's eyes widened at the blood that stained the small man's shirt. When Thorin rest a hand on his shoulder Bilbo turned and his watery eyes widened before he jumped up and wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck. The King staggered in surprise, and then enveloped his arms around the other man's shaking form, running hands gently across his back.

"What's happened?" Thorin asked softly, and Bilbo pressed his face into the King's chest.

"I'm just…just glad, you're okay," Bilbo muttered, struggling to compose himself as the other man pulled away to look into his eyes. Thorin frowned at the anguish he saw there, and he glanced around the room curiously. Each child was accounted for, and Bombur had most of them preoccupied with another story in the corner of the room. The King looked back towards the small man in his arms and pulled him close.

"No, something else happened. You're far too upset," he whispered wiping at the jeweller's hair. Bilbo sighed against him and smiled sadly, before pulling him down for a long and sensual kiss.

"Another time, my love," Bilbo murmured and Thorin kissed his brow.

"We should get Balin into a bed."

* * *

"I had hoped, I would never see him like this again," Fíli muttered under his breath as he played with the fingers on Kíli's hand. It had been several days, and still Kíli looked pale. His eyes had fluttered open a few times, but only for minutes at a time, and then he would close them and fall back asleep. The Prince had not left his side, even to aid in the reconstruction of the palace. He wanted to be there, at his brother's side when he woke. He wanted to look into his clear eyes, hear him speak. Only then would he truly believe his little brother was going to be fine.

He'd held on to the pendant for a few days, before latching it around his brother's neck. It belonged there after all, and there was no need to hide who Kíli was, not in front of friends and family. He kissed the other man's fingers one by one and wondered what the people of Erebor would think, knowing the Prince had fallen in love with his own brother. Would they be disgusted? Or would they be happy he'd found someone that made his heart swell with joy.

Thorin walked into the room and Fíli turned to him, noting the decorative crowns the other man held in his hands. His uncle smiled and handed him one, similar to his old scratched up crown and Fíli smiled in thanks and placed it in his hair before eyeing the second.

"For Kíli, when he wakes. That is, if he wants to wear it," Thorin muttered, handing the second one to his nephew. Fíli ran his fingers over the delicate metalwork. It looked fashioned to match his crown, but with finer details, and smoother lines. It was more suited to Kíli's fluid frame. The gemstone set in the front was a deep red, and would surely heighten the colours of Kíli's skin and eyes. But it was the distinct markings etched around the gem that really shocked him. It held not the symbols for a Prince of the Durin line, as Fíli had expected, but instead the words, nûlukh, ûrzud, akhùthuzh, and âzyung.

"This is…this is a consort's crown," Fíli whispered, and the King smiled gently. Thorin said nothing to him, but he placed a comforting hand on his nephew's shoulder and squeezed lightly. Fíli was so overcome with emotion that he nearly missed Balin grumbling as he woke in the next bed over. Thorin and Fíli stood beside him eagerly, as he squinted his eyes open and struggled to sit up. Balin sat facing straight ahead in a daze, a heavy frown on his face. Then he closed his eyes with a groan and turned towards the two Durins, smiling just a little.

"Welcome back, my old friend," Thorin spoke, pulling up a chair to sit down. Balin snorted, and then rubbed his head.

"Old indeed, too old for these sorts of things," The advisor admitted, and then he winked at them both with humour in his eyes.

"I could use a stiff drink,"

* * *

Fixing the palace was proving quite the job. The members of the court worked together, along with any person from Erebor wishing to help as they lifted new pillars and reconstructed walls. Dain and his army even aided in the trying task during their stay. Dwalin helped heave a pillar in the library back in place before starting to reconstruct the many shelves that had been destroyed. He worked exclusively in the library in the hopes of catching Ori's attention again, but the two men had barely interacted in the days following battle. The scribe was completely engrossed in salvaging as many books as possible, rewriting the charred pages, and attempting to fill in the blanks during nearly every waking moment.

Dwalin sighed heavily as he watched the smaller man working away at one of the few intact tables within the library walls. He rarely lifted his head and the guard wanted nothing more than to just share a glance with him, see his cute little smile. Instead he hammered the last few nails into a tall shelf and pushed it up to stand in the proper place. Dwalin wiped his hands on his pants and cracked his back, preparing to begin the next one. He had just marked the proper lengths on a long piece of wood when a tiny cough alerted him to another's presence.

Ori stood behind him, for once not holding a book in his fingers, and Dwalin eagerly met his gaze. The scribe was tired, a little drawn, with heavy circles beneath his eyes, but Dwalin still glanced across his features fondly.

"I…wanted to thank you, for helping. Um…With the library. It means a lot," Ori stuttered, blushing heatedly. Dwalin stood in front of him and tried to stay composed but he ended up rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully.

"Ah…it's nothin'. Sooner it gets done, sooner you've got yer favourite place back, righ'?" Dwalin muttered and Ori's eyes widened as his heart swelled. He stepped a little closer and reached out to touch the guard's hand, and Dwalin gripped his smaller fingers inside his own.

"You're wonderful," Ori gushed, and the guard coughed into a fist and glanced around the room carefully. There were several others, working away, including Dori, but the other man seemed fairly engrossed in ordering men around.

"Just thinkin' it'd be nice to see yeh smile again, yanno?" Dwalin admitted and he grunted when Ori jumped at him and wrapped tiny arms around his neck. The guard gripped his waist and pushed his nose into the other man's neck. The scribe hugged him tightly, and then turned to breathe into his ear.

"When everything's all fixed up…we should continue, where we left off," the scribe whispered and then giggled nervously. Dwalin groaned and gripped the back of Ori's robes tightly.

"Why wait?" the guard asked heatedly, and he leant in, just barely pressing their lips together.

"Hey! Don't think I can't see you two over there!" Dori's voice sounded across the room, and Ori pulled away in a hurry then scampered away. Oh right…that was why.

* * *

There was a wet sensation at Nori's rear that made him shiver as his eyes slowly opened. He felt well rested for the first time in a long while. His muscles were relaxed and his mind at ease. Though as a warm hand ran up between his legs and across the crease of his rear he struggled to keep hold of his instinct to attack and run. Still he flinched slightly, his fingers tensing in preparation for a fight, and the hand stilled, waiting until his body relaxed against the sheets again.

"What are you…doing?" Nori asked in a ragged voice, turning his head slightly to eye the man behind him. He was met with Bofur's wide and saucy grin as a finger slipped inside him.

"Nng," Nori groaned, tightening his hands in the sheets before tossing a glare behind him. Bofur chuckled and began to kiss along his spine, pausing to run his tongue across the occasional scar on the other man's back. The thief squirmed around the finger and clenched his teeth together, refusing to let a sound escape from between his lips.

"Why am I so wet?" Nori hissed, clenching his eyes shut as the finger probed within him and a second slid in beside it. It was a surprisingly smooth entry, and he could feel the slickness leaking from his body and easing the passage of the tamer's fingers. Bofur nibbled at his rear and chuckled lowly, spreading and thrusting his fingers at an incredibly slow pace. Nori fought against his urge to press back against them. He refused to completely submit to the other man's ministrations, determined not to turn into some begging, shameful wench.

"Nadir readied you for me," the other man whispered against the skin of his ass, pressing gentle kisses along the crease, then at the dip of his back.

"What? You can't be serious," Nori groaned, completely scandalized by the images the words put in his head. He lifted his upper body on his forearms and threw a desperate look back at the tamer, and then he glanced towards where Nadir slumbered atop the bed beside them. Bofur kept fingering him, looking deviously into his eyes, and Nori gasped embarrassingly as he pulled his fingers from his entrance.

"I guess you'll never know," Bofur whispered brazenly, but Nori's worries were somewhat abated when the other man licked a long stripe across his hole.

"Oh god," the thief blurted, and he dropped his body forward onto the bedding as he pressed his brow into the mattress. Bofur's tongue lapped at him repeatedly, and Nori had to pull his arm in front of his face and bite at his skin to keep from moaning. His legs trembled pathetically when the tamer pressed his tongue inside the tight ring of muscle and ran his fingers up and down the thief's sides.

"You…pervert," Nori hissed around his arm, and he clenched involuntarily when Bofur's earring dragged across his skin. The tamer pulled away, leaving tiny little bite marks along his spine, and Nori panted heavily when the other man's body grazed against his back. He could feel the tamer's clothing rubbing against his skin and blushed with mortification at his nudity. Nori was sure his neck and shoulders must have been flushed a deep red and he bit his arm so hard it bruised as Bofur pressed his length against his rear. The other man's hands spread his legs and worked his cheeks apart, and he shuddered as he was penetrated. Bofur's arousal was thick, with a defined head, and Nori could feel the ridge sliding inside of him. And then the tamer's chest pressed down on top of him firmly, trapping his body on the bed as he thrust shallowly inside him. It was incredibly slow, and Bofur punctuated each entry with a kiss on his neck. Nori's shoulders tensed at the torturous pace and he still refused to make a single lusty sound.

"Lecher, ugh," Nori seethed, as Bofur's thrusts became deeper and more forceful, though he still retained a sluggish pace. The tamer kissed along the line of his shoulders and ran hands around his front, running fingers across his chest to pull the other man's nipples gently. Nori clenched around the thick length inside him and felt tears coming to his eyes from the pain in his wrist, and Bofur ran a hand up across his forearm.

"Just let go, Nori," the tamer urged, gently easing Nori's arm away from his mouth. The thief panted loudly and his limbs shook with need while Bofur rubbed soothingly at his back and kissed away the bruising on the skin of his arm. His pace remained tediously slow, and Nori flinched visibly each time his prostate was jarred. His arousal pressed painfully into the blankets, and Bofur's teasing thrusts did nothing to aid in his release. Then the tamer shifted and pressed fully into his body, pushing deep inside him in quick short lunges. The constant pleasure brought tiny whimpers from his throat, despite Nori's relentless struggle to keep quiet. His foot shot out and he gasped at the feeling of Nadir's fur against his leg while Bofur made a soft sound of satisfaction beside his ear.

The tamer gripped his face, turning the thief's head towards his, and then he gazed at Nori's lust filled expression. The redhead's eyes were glazed and his mouth was open and Bofur pressed a tongue between his parted lips. Nori felt pleasure building in his groin and he shuddered when the tamer licked across the scar over his eye and laced their fingers together intimately. He bucked backwards alongside the other man and a tiny yelp left his mouth as he trembled and released against the sheets. It was the strongest orgasm he'd ever had, and he went completely limp in the other man's embrace, slumping against the wet bedding. Bofur still thrust within him gently while he pulled hair away from Nori's face and looked at him intently throughout his climax, pumping until the last of the thief's seed dripped from his cock.

The tamer pulled from his heat for a moment, and Nori twitched at the empty feeling, but his body was soon rotated onto its back and the pressure returned at his entrance. Bofur lifted one of his legs and thrust heatedly inside him gazing at his body with lowered lids. Nori felt exposed under his scrutiny and he furrowed his brow when the other man ran a hand across the thick scar on his chest. Their eyes met and Bofur's expression remained serious as he plunged within his body, his dark hair hanging messily over his shoulders, and his earring swaying with his movements. Nori could feel water leaking from the corners of his eyes and running down his face, and his body still twitched around the other man's cock with each thrust.

Bofur made an unusual animalistic noise and he threw his head back, pulling Nori's hips taught against his body. The thief's breath hitched as the length within him swelled and warm liquid pulsed around it. He felt completely debauched and he lifted a hand to cover his face when seed leaked from his body in a thick glob. Bofur thrust a few more times, before stroking the redhead's abdomen and sighing with satisfaction. Then his hand traced up the side of the thief's body and gripped Nori's pulling it up to place a kiss on each finger. They stayed like that until Bofur softened completely and slipped from his body, and then the tamer flopped down beside him and pressed his nose against Nori's neck. They lay together for some time, but when Nadir rolled over on the bed and plopped a heavy paw across Nori's sweaty legs, it jolted him from his hazy state. The thief shivered at the brush of fur against his over sensitized skin and groaned with annoyance as a rough tongue lapped at his face.

"Your tiger has no shame, just like you," Nori muttered, and his face turned unbearably red as he recalled what Bofur had implicated about his beast earlier that night. The other man merely chuckled and mimicked his tiger, sprawling across Nori's body and legs. Bofur's fingers ran over the other man's skin and then he flicked one of the gold chains that hung from the thief's neck.

"Where'd you get this from?" the tamer asked, eyeing the intricate detailing and expensive gemstones set along it.

"The King's chambers," Nori drawled tossing the other man a sidelong glance but he snickered at Bofur's appalled expression.

"I'm lying. I swiped it off a man in Bree," he uttered, as if stealing from a stranger was more forgivable. Bofur did not reprimand him, however his eyes widened in surprise.

"Bree? That far?" the tamer spoke with disbelief, and Nori swallowed before looking into his eyes with an uneasy expression. In truth it had been several years since they last met, since Nori had disappeared without a trace. The thief was hard to find at the best of times, but such a long travel to the west made it clear why there had been no sight of the redhead for years. Not until Erebor had become a target and Dwalin sought him out for information. Bofur eyed the other man, observing the fresh scars along his chest and arms, and the many tiny ones that covered his fingers and other parts of his body, some that made the tamer's gaze narrow with worry.

Nori's eyes burned and he blinked repeatedly before turning his face away from the other man's gaze. He was a lost cause. Untrustworthy, soiled, ugly. It was unrealistic to think they could ever be happy together. He never should have come back. Not when he was nothing but trouble, and Bofur could easily lay with someone more attractive. But how was he supposed to stay away, when the dark rumours began to roam the streets. How was he to leave his brothers, his family, the man he…loved, to fight a war alone? He startled and glanced back in surprise as Bofur's tongue pressed against his chest. The tamer licked across his body, pressing kisses atop the many blemishes that covered his skin, paying special attention to the large scar in his chest.

"How can you possibly love someone like me?" Nori asked, his eyes glassy. The tamer lifted from his chest and raised an eyebrow, before taking in the other man's troubled expression.

"What do you mean?" Bofur inquired, shifting so he lay atop him and so their noses were nearly touching.

"I know how you work Bofur. Rare and exotic beauties, right?" Nori asked and the tamer narrowed his eyes in confusion. Nori scoffed and glanced down at his scarred body.

"Look at me, I'm as tainted as a man can be," he muttered, fidgeting beneath the other man. Bofur's thumb pressed beneath his eye and Nori jolted as a tear fell from the pressure. He hated crying, hated being weak in front of others. Bofur was the only man that had ever seen him show a hint of such pain.

"No, Nori, you're the rarest, and most exotic of them all," Bofur whispered, his voice softer and more sincere than the thief thought possible. He shook his head in disbelief and glanced into Bofur's eyes with wonder. Their noses did touch then, lightly, and the tamer's dark hair fell and tickled at Nori's neck.

"I've always thought you stunning, that will never change," Bofur admitted, running a finger along the scar over Nori's eye almost reverently. They kissed gently and the tamer whispered against his lips.

"From the very moment we first met."

* * *

It was several weeks after the battle that everyone had recovered. The last to wake was of course Kíli. In his signature style the man stretched out his limbs and sat up with a smile, as though he was merely waking from a restful nap. Fíli was at his side in an instant, looking into his eyes with a sigh of relief, and then moments later the room seemed to fill with people greeting the dancer back to the land of the living.

Dís bent in front of her youngest son, gently tucking hair behind his ears, before she pulled him into an embrace. It took a few minutes, but eventually Kíli held her back just as tightly. When she pulled away they both had tears in their eyes and Dís sighed dramatically and clapped her hands with a smile. She pulled the Arkenstone from her pocket and tied it around his neck, and Kíli touched it tentatively. It hung just below his royal pendant, and Dís grinned broadly at the sight.

"My son, you've been long missed," she spoke fondly, and then rest her hands on his shoulders.

"I knew immediately of course," Dís voiced cockily and Kíli smiled while everyone else in the room chuckled at the Princess, including the King. The group chatted off and on for the better part of an hour, explaining the events they each witnessed, and thanking the Valar for saving them, and then Kíli's attention was drawn to the crown delicately placed on the table next to his bed. Thorin smiled and handed it to his youngest nephew.

"It's yours," he voiced and Kíli's eyes widened while he ran his fingers across the details and Khuzdul words engraved on it.

"It's a consort's crown Kíli. Designed to match and compliment your brother's. It's your choice when you choose to wear it, or if you ever do," Dís explained calmly, and Kíli glanced nervously at Fíli before looking back at the crown. His fingers still traced the patterns but he did not move to put it on his head.

"If…you choose not to, we can design you another crown, a Prince's crown," Dís continued and Kíli looked up at her in surprise. His eyes wandered to his brother again but Fíli was looking towards the floor, his hands folded in front of him. The silence after was awkward while Kíli fidgeted and Fíli did his best not to look at his brother, while in truth he watched his every movement from the corner of his eye. Luckily not much later a guard knocked at the entrance to the infirmary. Everyone in the room turned to look, and he stumbled and visibly tensed before addressing Thorin.

"My King, we have…a guest," the man spoke slowly and with hesitation, and he had a strange look in his eye, almost as though he had seen a ghost.

It turned out he had seen a ghost, in a way. Thorin stood at the entrance of his palace and looked down the steps into the eyes of a man he thought dead. King Thranduil waited regally and emotionless as always, and his son, advisors, and several guards stood at his sides. He glanced at Thorin disdainfully then smirked at the other King's obvious shock.

"Tell me, do you plan to make me wait on your steps all night or will you invite me and my men inside? Is this the hospitality Erebor shows its guests?" Thranduil droned and Thorin glared at him fiercely before glancing at him with a suspicious eye. The man was exactly how he remembered him. Arrogant, annoying, and unbearable to be within twenty feet of.

"I assure you, I am entirely alive, other than the odd crick in my neck," the blonde King voiced, and Thorin stepped aside and beckoned him up the stairs dispassionately. Thranduil paused at the entrance and glanced towards the others standing nearby, his gaze landing on Kíli.

"It seems, the Valar, have seen fit to revive my Kingdom. I thought I might visit an old friend of mine," Thranduil admitted, and he moved towards Kíli with a raised chin.

"Aran," Kíli uttered, bowing gently before looking into Thranduil's eyes with a small smile. The taller man looked him over thoroughly, placing a hand on Kíli's face as his eyes fell to the pendant around his neck.

"You wish to stay here," Thranduil stated, and Kíli bit his lip and nodded.

"This is my home," the dancer whispered, and the Sindarin King frowned ever so slightly.

"Pity," Thranduil stated, and he dragged a finger down Kíli's front to rest over one of the scars on his belly. Fíli seethed with anger from nearby, and his fingers itched to grab the cutlass at his waist. Thorin gripped his nephew's arm gently, while he directed a glare of his own at Thranduil's head.

"Perhaps you are immortal now, sweet one. I look forward to watching you dance this evening," Thranduil admitted with a sultry glance and Kíli grinned impishly. The tall man walked into the palace as though it was his own, and Thorin followed sullenly behind.

Kíli did dance that evening, and it was captivating. The throne room was packed with people from the court and Thranduil's Kingdom, as well as many people from the surrounding villages who came to celebrate. Men and women drank and feasted heartily, and even Thorin's spirits were raised. Bilbo sat beside him, whispering nearly constantly into his ear, and even initiating conversation with the Sindarin King. And after several glasses of wine, Thorin drunkenly suggested a truce between their Kingdoms. Thranduil laughed at him, but agreed, eyeing the way his son mingled with a redheaded lad not far away. It was time, to put differences aside, and live peacefully. And as Kíli circled the room, all eyes were on him while he contorted his body in unnatural ways.

* * *

Late into the night the throne room remained occupied by one man. Prince Fíli sat atop his uncle's throne, observing the room with a dreary gaze. He couldn't sleep, for his mind was too lost in worry. He stared at the stone floor below before looking around the room. He could almost see Kíli, circling as he had earlier that night, twisting and turning with a beautiful smile on his face. But…his brother had not worn the crown.

Fíli groaned and lowered his head into his hands. He feared he had lost his chance. That Kíli would never forgive him for casting him away, even for just a moment. He'd watched as his brother gazed lustily at nearly every person except him as he danced that night, and each time the other man moved in intricate movements before Thranduil, he thought his heart was breaking in two. Perhaps Kíli would choose to leave him…to return to his King's side and dance for another each night.

His eyes were drawn to the doors, as they slid open and a shadow slinked in through the crack between them. He couldn't see clearly, but he recognized the silhouette immediately, and the soft sound of the other man's chains and belts gave him away.

"Kíli?" the Prince questioned, looking intently into the dark as the other man shut the door behind him. Fíli watched as his brother approached, his shape walking into the light of the low lanterns that remained lit around the room. Fíli nearly choked. Kíli was dressed in an outfit he'd never seen before. The silks about his form were transparent, more so even than the fabric that was draped across his form the first time they met. They were revealing, slit at the sides, as well as the front, so Fíli could see his tanned legs and his arousal clearly. And his torso was draped only in jewels, the gold strands running from shoulder to shoulder, and falling elegantly across his nipples and towards his navel, where the panther jewel rest against his skin. Then as he approached closer Fíli swallowed when he noticed the golden snake wrapped around the base of his cock. It clung to the engorged skin teasingly, and Fíli wondered where he found such a trinket. He had moonflowers braided throughout his hair, all of them in full bloom. But perhaps the most intriguing thing on his body was the intricate crown nestled atop his head.

"Do you like them?" Kíli asked, when he was close enough that Fíli need only reach out to touch him. And then the younger man turned in a circle in front of him, and the Prince groaned when he realised the pants were slit up the back as well, and hardly covered anything. Fíli's fingers twitched in his lap eagerly.

"Bilbo's been working on these, as a gift for helping with the children. And Glóin gave him the fabric…they work well together," Kíli spoke, gesturing to the jewels, and the snake wrapped around his arousal. Fíli's eyes lowered to observe it thoroughly before flicking back up to the intricate crown. Kíli licked his lips and stepped closer, running his fingers across his brother's knees.

"Or do you no longer find me appealing, brother?" Kíli whispered, leaning forward to look right into the other man's eyes.

"…Kíli," Fíli muttered, and he gave in, reaching out to run his fingers down the side of Kíli's hips. He reached his hands around the other man's back, running across what little fabric was there, and then he gripped the bare skin of his brother's rear. Kíli's mouth opened in a tiny gasp and he jerked forwards slightly, his jewels clinking together with the movement.

"As if such a thing could be possible. My brother, if you had grown before my eyes, surely I would have done despicable things to you," Fíli admitted, running his nose along the curve of Kíli's neck and sucking lightly at his collar.

"Then why…," Kíli began, his voice trailing off as he looked at the other man with a hint of worry.

"The same reason you kept it a secret," Fíli answered, lifting the royal pendant from his brother's neck and kissing it, before running his fingers across the engravings in his crown. Kíli blinked at him for a moment before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

"You? Afraid?" he whispered against Fíli's lips in disbelief. His brother grinned, kissing him back once in return.

"Love has the power to make the strongest of men quake in terror," Fíli admitted, and Kíli chuckled against his lips. The younger man looked down and scrunched up his brow, running his fingers across his brother's thigh.

"You have not touched me since I woke," he muttered, then pushed forwards and straddled Fíli's legs atop the throne. The Prince groaned as their bodies ground together, and his hands ran up Kíli's back then down to his bare rear. Fíli's fingers pressed into his brother's crease and he widened his eyes when they slipped across him easily. He paused and ran a finger back across the tiny oiled pucker, circling it gently, and just barely breaching the tight ring of muscle. Kíli thrust back against it and Fíli settled his brow to his brother's chest before breathing in deeply.

"Did anyone see you like this?" he asked, his hand tightening at Kíli's back while his finger slipped in and out of the dancer's wet heat with ease.

"I was very careful," Kíli panted, and then he pushed Fíli back against the throne and kissed him hard. His hands fiddled with his brother's pants, reaching inside the folds and tugging the other man's arousal free. Fíli moaned into Kíli's mouth and thrust into his hand at the first hint of a touch. He was pretty sure he'd never been so hard in his life. The dancer ground atop his finger, then lifted a leg up around Fíli's neck and shoved his toes into the other man's golden hair. Fíli gasped loudly and pulled Kíli's head away from his mouth, as his finger slipped from his rear.

"By the sun and stars, we can't do this here Kíli," the Prince stuttered, looking quickly over his brother's shoulder toward the dark doorway. Kíli's toes gripped Fíli's hair with surprising force before he slid his foot away and moved his body closer. The Prince felt the wet skin pressed against him, and then his head slammed into the stone throne when Kíli's warmth surrounded him in one easy movement. Any complaint he might have had was stopped with the pressure of Kíli's lips firmly atop his own. Their teeth clacked against each other and their tongues battled for dominance, but in the end Kíli bit his lip gently and pulled away with a teasing smile. Fíli's fingers clenched in his brother's sides, and his eyes widened as he gazed blankly above them at the dramatic shadows flickering across the ceiling. He was completely lost beneath the other man's movements.

"Too late," Kíli groaned in his ear and then the dark haired man was nearly jumping atop him, jerking his hips in wide circles. Fíli's mind was in shambles, lost in pleasure, though he managed to lower his gaze and look across his brother's face. He observed the way Kíli's eyes fluttered, and the way his irises reflected the flames from the lanterns. He noticed the deep flush in the other man's cheeks and chest, and the way his lips spread apart slightly each time he panted lustily. Fíli's eyes moved to the crown and he stared at it for a long while, smiling serenely as his brother rode him. Kíli shifted atop him and his attention moved back to the dancer's eyes then down his thin nose as his brother's legs tightened around his thighs.

"I don't like the way the western King looked at you tonight," Fíli murmured, reaching up a hand to rub a strand of hair from his brother's neck. Kíli laughed deeply, and bent close to run his tongue down the side of Fíli's face.

"Everyone was looking at me tonight," he teased, placing a sloppy kiss on his brother's chin before pressing his nose into the other man's beard. He nibbled lightly at the scraggly hairs and dragged his nails across the back of the older man's head.

"You like it don't you, the attention," Fíli groaned, running hands beneath the fabric draped over Kíli's legs before rubbing them along the inside of his thighs. He carefully avoided touching Kíli's cock, instead watching as it bobbed up and down, the golden snake catching the light.

"You like when people watch you, their arousal plain to see," he voiced gruffly, observing the tiny beads of cum that dripped from his brother with delight. He itched to taste him, but he did not have the physical ability in that moment to move much at all. Kíli's slick hole was far too enjoyable wrapped around his arousal.

"I like making men want what they cannot have," Kíli admitted coyly, and he pressed their brows together so that each time Kíli's eyes moved his lashes brushed against Fíli's. The younger man squeezed his muscles around the Prince's cock, and Fíli clenched his teeth and bucked up into him. A loud gasp escaped the Prince's mouth, followed by a deep moan, and then Kíli was looking directly into his eyes.

"I like making them jealous, of what belongs to you," the dancer whispered quietly, swiping his tongue across the rim of his ear.

"Only me?" Fíli asked, moving a hand to grip his brother's cock. The Prince stroked it fondly, running his thumb across the top while the rest of his fingers fondled the vein on the underside. Each time he reached the base, his thumb swiped across the head of the golden snake. He could see his brother's erection turning a deep red, and struggling within the constraint of the golden adornment. Kíli's fingers tightened increasingly in Fíli's shoulders and he threw his head back exposing his slender neck.

"Only you, meleth e-guilen," he gasped, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"You are the only man who's touched me while I dance, the only man that's ever made love to me. And you are the only man that ever will," Kíli admitted and he groaned as his brother's cock swelled slightly inside of him. Fíli was visibly close to finishing; his eyes were scrunched up, though he still desperately peeked through them to gaze upon his brother, and his fingers were struggling to do much other than tighten and loosen on Kíli's skin. He was deeply flushed and breathing heavily, and tiny droplets of sweat ran down his neck and into his shirt. Kíli bent forwards and licked one away, following up the trail it made, and Fíli moaned and thrust up into his slick heat unabashedly. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated and Kíli bounced atop his lap and screamed each time Fíli slunk completely inside him.

It was not long after that Fíli pulled his brother taught to his body and shuddered atop the throne. He pulsed inside the other several times, gently easing Kíli's body atop his with each spurt. His hands rubbed at his brother's belly and waist, and he fell slack against the throne then struggled to catch his breath. Fíli glanced at the other man, noting his still swollen cock, and he felt ashamed that he'd reached completion alone. Kíli clung to him desperately, still clenching around his softening length, and Fíli mustered every bit of energy he could before lifting the other man gently off him. Kíli's feet slid to the floor and the Prince turned him and gripped his hips, before he leant forwards and licked across his rear.

Kíli shook in his grip, his legs visibly quaking, and he struggled to stay standing as his brother thoroughly lapped at his entrance. He felt Fíli wrap a hand around his hardness again, and gasped when he was stroked with great precision. He knew the flush in his cheeks was spreading throughout the rest of his body, and he could hear his moans echoing off the stone walls in the room. Kíli felt his brother's seed leaking from his body and running down his legs, and his body jerked as the Prince licked it away. He wanted desperately to finish and he whimpered pitifully as his arousal became unbearable and his sack tightened agonizingly.

"Is it keeping you from coming, uzayang?" Fíli whispered, toying with the embellishment wrapped around his cock. Kíli nodded frantically and parted his legs when three of his brother's fingers glided between them to play with his entrance. They slipped in easily with the extra lubrication, and Kíli moaned heatedly and nearly fell to the ground. Fíli pulled him back, propping him against his chest, and then the Prince kissed his neck tenderly. Kíli knew immediately when the golden snake was removed, for his climax hit instantly and he was jerking wildly in his brother's arms. Fíli still stroked him slowly, and when the last bit of seed left him, the Prince lifted his hands and licked it from his fingers. Kíli wilted in the other man's embrace and he sighed as Fíli lifted him to rest in his lap. The dancer tucked his head against his brother's chest while Fíli looked down at him fondly. The Prince was completely enamoured. He never wanted to let go of his beloved dancer, never wanted them to be apart, and his eyes were drawn once again to the circlet nestled in Kíli's dark locks.

"You keep looking at the crown," Kíli muttered lazily against his brother's chest, and Fíli gazed down at his sleepy face.

"I…I'm happy. I was worried, you would not…," the Prince trailed off, dragging a finger down Kíli's side.

"Your worries are for nothing, nadadel," Kíli whispered, and he turned in the embrace and wrapped his arms around the other man's neck. They kissed each other gently, tongues running lightly over lower lips, leaving swollen red flesh in their wake. Kíli smiled languidly and rest his head against his brother's shoulder.

"Perhaps Nori will take me on as his apprentice, I like walking in the shadows," Kíli murmured against his brother's skin, and Fíli chuckled lightly and ran a finger lightly down the side of the younger's face.

"I'm sure the shadows like having you, but I'm afraid the sun and moon would grow to miss you dearly," he uttered. Kíli smiled at him shyly and curled up against his body, cuddling against his brother's rumpled clothing. And they stayed there through the night, until the moonflowers in Kíli's hair folded back into lovely little stars, and sun leaked in through the cracks in the ceiling, until the lanterns had all burned out and the hallways began to bustle with activity. And unfortunately…until the King walked in and discovered them dishevelled and splayed shamelessly atop his throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to mention that modifying Sindarin words is unbearably complicated. Khuzdul is equally complex, especially when you start delving into verb modifiers and junk like that. Black speech, I found far easier to grasp, though the word selection is pretty limited. Sorry for mistakes :P.
> 
> Mânawenûz: Valarin for Manwë, the Blessed One, lord of air, wind, and clouds. The noblest and greatest in authority of all the Valar.
> 
> Srinkh, bûrgulu-izub: Gather, my shadows, in Black Speech
> 
> Varda: Queen of the stars, wife of Manwë, too beautiful for words.
> 
> Theryn/Thoron: Eagles/Eagle, in Sindarin
> 
> Mahmazar!: Fight!, in Khuzdul
> 
> Athhôrumun!: Summon!, in Khuzdul
> 
> Uzndashûh!: Greatest Birds!, in Khuzdul
> 
> Upndarûr: Greatest Cats!, in Khuzdul
> 
> Amanaišal: Unmarred, in Valarin
> 
> Ziimarp: Coward, in Black Speech
> 
> Mat: Die, in Black Speech
> 
> Mell nin: My Beloved, in Sindarin
> 
> Nûlukh: The Moon, in Khuzdul
> 
> Ûrzud: The Sun, in Khuzdul
> 
> Akhùthuzh: Eternal, in Khuzdul
> 
> Âzyung: Love, in Khuzdul
> 
> Aran: King, in Sindarin
> 
> Meleth e-guilen: Love of my life, in Sindarin
> 
> Uzayang: Greatest love, in Khuzdul
> 
> Nadadel: brother of all brothers, in Khuzdul
> 
> Panther: A powerful and protective presence, an aggressive guardian and a symbol of releasing ones passions and starting a new phase of life, while discovering your desires and living your dreams.
> 
> Columbine: A complex flower, used in both a positive and negative light, emblem of the deceived lovers.
> 
> Moonflower: Dreaming of love, intoxication, visions


End file.
